Into the Fire
by Harryfan626
Summary: Meredith Grey is officially a doctor. She is officially a surgical intern. Her husband is officially her boss. She is in for a Hard Day's Night. A retelling of the Grey's Anatomy, episode by episode, where Meredith and Derek are married when they arrive at SGH.
1. Into the Fire 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. A lot of the dialogue is direct from the show. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **A/N: I'm just MerDer trash and I needed to write something. I'm currently in the middle of writing a fic about Meredith finding out about Addison before she comes to Seattle but we'll see how that goes. This story is complete. Chapters will be posted periodically.**

 _The game. They say either a person has what it takes to play, or they don't. My mother was one of the greats. Me, on the other hand...I'm kinda screwed._

My first thought as I opened my eyes was that I am a total idiot. I blink a couple of times to reorient myself with my surroundings. I am on the couch in my mother's old house and I am very naked. This is not how I originally planned on starting today. Looking down from the couch I see another naked body, this one on the floor. He is still asleep and has the periwinkle blanket that was draped over the back of the couch last night covering him. Standing up I snatch the knitted blanket and wrap myself in it, blocking out the chill in the air. I make a mental note to check if the heater is ready for the winter as I climb off the couch.

Without checking the clock I know I must be running late. I grab a throw pillow from the couch I woke up on and drop it directly on his naked butt, effectively waking him up. He grunts and lifts his head up from the other throw pillow it had been resting on since we finished our third round last night. He lazily reaches his arm out from beside him and hands me my bra. I guess our activities last night are partly my fault due to the tequila drinking and the lacy bra wearing I did.

His first words of the morning are, "This is…"

Snatching my bra from his hand I reply, "Humiliating on so many levels," I start walking towards the stairs and tell him, "You have to get up."

Sitting up slowly and, dare I say it, seductively, he suggests, "Why don't you just come back down here and we'll pick up where we left off?"

"No seriously," I brush my hair out of my eyes, "You have to get up, I'm late. Which isn't what you want to be on your first day of work, so…"

He pulls on his underwear and laughs at me, "So? It's my first day of work, too."

"No." I reply.

"Oh?"

I sigh, he is being ridiculous, "Well kind of as a teacher but you've already been working for like a week."

Still smiling, he gathers his clothing, "Oh that's nice, you get to decide whether or not I'm actually working. So how is it only kind of my first day?"

"You know how it's kind of your first day. Don't do this. You've been working but you haven't been head and you haven't had interns but now you're officially head of a department and have interns. So kind of."

He laughs at me.

"We don't have to do this thing," I reply.

I wrap the blanket tighter around myself as I watch him. He finally found his belt after searching for it around the floor for the past few minutes. As he walks towards me I find myself admiring his chest and his hair. Even after a night of sex and sleeping on the hardwood floor is hair is still beautiful. I mentally berate myself. I should not be doing this. I should be showering.

He grins at me with a glint in his eye, "Oh. We can do anything you want."

"No this thing. The talking thing, pretending we aren't in a rush...look, I'm gonna go upstairs and take a shower, okay, and when I get back down here, you'll be dressed and have breakfast ready so…" As I talk, impossible as it seems, his grin gets wider. I really wish I could just drop the blanket and go back to where we were but I can't or else I will be the unfortunate intern who loses her job before it begins.

He walks close to me, "Meredith."

"Derek," I say. I can't help but smile up at him. His eyes crinkle at the corners in that perfect way that always makes my heart melt. He reaches for my hand, silently asking for assistance to jump over the couch. I lend it to him and once he crosses to my side of the room he pulls me close to him, against his chest.

We are both standing in the middle of my mother's dusty house, me wrapped only in a blanket and him only in his underwear. Just then he kisses me. To keep my blanket around me I do not wrap my arms around him but I lean into the kiss. After our lips separate we rest our foreheads against each other for a moment with our noses brushing the other's. Then I push him away, "Shower," I say pointing to myself, "Breakfast," I say pointing to him. Then I'm bolting upstairs with a bright red blush on my face because I can feel his eyes on me and I can hear his delighted laugh following me.

Barely an hour later, we are walking into the hospital together. My hands are shaking a little and there is a nervous bounce in my step. The grin that has been on his face since we woke up that morning is still there and, while my eyes are trained on the front doors of Seattle Grace Hospital, his eyes are on me.

"You didn't need to come in with me," I say, "You don't need to be here for another two hours."

"Why Dr. Grey," He replies, "Do you think a husband would let his wife start her first day of work by herself."

I roll my eyes at him.

"Besides," He says to me, "It gives me a chance to settle into my new office and catch a glimpse of the new interns without them knowing who they are. Maybe I'll be able to find one to take home tonight, I hear they're an easy lay."

I lightly slap his arm as I laugh, "If you bring home an intern so help me Dr. Derek Shepherd or not…"

"There's only one intern I want to take home," He cuts me off, "I promise." He successfully distracted me because I barely noticed that as we spoke we not only entered the hospital but came to be waiting in front of the elevators. He presses both the up and the down button, "I need to go down stairs to check out my office and you," He says to me, "Need to get upstairs and hope Chief Webber doesn't notice you're a little late when you catch up on the intern tour." Kissing me quickly on the check he boards his elevator to take him down stairs and I am left alone and once again nervous. It is comforting to know that my husband is in the building and is rooting for me. Once I join the other interns though, I know Derek and will officially be on different levels. It's strange to think of myself as my husband's subordinate and my husband as my teacher. After a lot of discussion we both decided to keep knowledge of our marriage as limited as possible for the first few weeks of my internship until I establish myself. Neither of us wants other doctors assuming that I'm only at SGH or being chosen for surgeries because of our marriage.

I catch up with the tour as they enter an operating room. Standing near the back I listen to Dr. Webber give his spiel, " Each of you comes here hopeful. Wanting in on the game. A month ago you were in med school being taught by doctors. Today, you are the doctors. The seven years you spend here as a surgical resident will be the best and worst of your life. You will be pushed to the breaking point. Look around you. Say hello to your competition. Eight of you will switch to an easier specialty. Five of you will crack under the pressure. Two of you will be asked to leave. This is your starting line. This is your arena. How well you play? That's up to you." As he speaks my heart starts pounding and I look around the OR in awe. This is nowhere near the first time that I have been in an OR with the combined experiences of my mother and husband being surgeons, medical school, and the unfortunate time of my life when I had my tonsils removed. However, this is the first time that I am an OR as a doctor and not a bystander. Everything that I have seen before seems new and exciting. At the same time it is imposing and terrifying.

Like I said. I'm screwed.


	2. Into the Fire 2

**A/N: Just so everyone knows, this story is complete. I just don't want to post the entire story in one go. The next chapter will be up in a day or so.**

Putting my stethoscope around my neck my heart rate increases again. I am wearing scrubs in an official capacity. This is the first time that I am wearing scrubs as a doctor and not as a kid playing dress up or a Halloween costume or a fantasy in bed with Derek. I am wearing scrubs because I might be saving a person's life today. I am a doctor. I am also pretty freaking terrified.

Residents, who also are wearing the same light blue scrubs as interns, start listing off their new students. Many of my fellow interns are laughing and joking as they get to know each other but I am a little worried that if I open my mouth I will vomit because of the adrenaline racing through me.

After I look around the locker room I notice something upsetting and turn to the Asian woman whose locker is next to my own, "Only six women out of twenty."

"Yeah. I hear one of them's a model." She says as she shoves her leather boots at the bottom of her locker, we have only been in the locker room for ten minutes and hers is already a disaster zone, "Seriously, like that's going to help with the respect thing?"

"You're Cristina, right?" I ask as I stand up. Maybe today will not be as terrifying as I have expected, so far it seems like I am making a friend, or at least an ally.

She puts her white coat on and I wonder if she is as thrilled to be wearing hers as I am to be wearing my own, "Which resident you assigned to?" Cristina asks me, "I got Bailey."

"The Nazi? Yeah, me too."

A nervous looking guy calls to us from across the room, "You got the Nazi?" If I remember correctly from last night, which after all the alcohol I am not so certain I do, his name is George, "So did I. At least we'll be tortured together, right? I'm George O'Malley, uh, we met at the mixer," I smile a little at him and then look down. Honestly, I am surprised I actually remembered his name, "You had a black dress with a slit up the side, strappy sandals…" Cristina and I exchange a look. This kid clearly has a crush on me. When I tell Derek about him later we will probably both get a decent laugh out of it. George slouches, "Now you think I'm gay." He misinterpreted mine and Cristina's eye contact conversation. While I am not wearing my wedding ring now, as it would get in the way of gloves and other medical things as I explained to Derek, I was last night. George managed to remember everything about me the night before other than the fact that I had my ring on.

"Uh-huh," Cristina dismisses him as she walks away. The look she gives me before she leaves tells me she remembers seeing my wedding ring. Thinking about my two rings which are sitting safely at the bottom of my scrub shirt pocket, I wonder how anybody could possibly miss seeing the diamond from my engagement ring. Derek always tells me how he knows that I don't appreciate flashy things but that he loves me so much that he needed to get something that screams it. While I don't say it often, I do love my ring despite its size.

I barely listen to George as he stutters an explanation as to why he remembers what I wore last night, "No," He tells me, "I-I'm not gay, it's, ah, it's just that, you know, you were, I mean, you were very, unforgettable." I spare him a kind smile and pray that he doesn't think it means I like him like he likes me. He is still talking as a resident calls my name, as well as Cristina, George, and one other's. I start walking towards the man who called my attention as George mutters, "And I'm totally forgettable." Part of me pities him. He isn't forgettable, he just isn't my type. He wouldn't have been my type even if I wasn't happily married.

Cristina confronts the doctor that called our names and asks if he is Bailey. We're directed towards the end of the hall.

Looking out the locker room door our eyes land on the doctor known as the Nazi. She isn't what I expected. Judging by Cristina's question of, "That's the Nazi?" She feels the same way. I honestly don't know what I expected. I think maybe a man more imposing than Derek and angrier than my mother. Instead, the short woman at the end of the hall who is going through a chart with a nurse is the reality.

"I thought the Nazi would be a guy." George says, as we start walking towards our resident.

"I thought the Nazi would be…" I make a face trying to picture the man I envisioned, "The Nazi."

A beautiful but panicked looking intern joins the three of us. I assume she's Bailey's fourth intern. As we approach she says, "Maybe it's professional jealousy. Maybe she's brilliant, and they call her Nazi because they're jealous. Maybe she's nice." My first thought is this girl hasn't spent a lot of time near surgeons if she thinks that.

Cristina stops walking and watches the frazzled blonde walk in front of us. She snipes, "Let me guess. You're the model." She turns around to glare at Cristina, which only confirms the assumption.

The girl actually smiles at the doctor known as the Nazi and says, "Hi, I'm Isobel Stevens, but everyone calls me Izzie."

Bailey gives her a cold and calculating look. She glances down at her outstretched hand and back up to her smiling too pretty face. Instead of replying she turns to the other three of us and says, ": I have five rules. Memorize them." She directs her first rule to Izzie's still offered hand, "Rule number one, don't bother sucking up, I already hate you, that's not gonna change." She goes on to direct our attention to the nurses' station and an array of supplies she has laid out before us, "Trauma protocol, phone lists, pagers. Nurses will page you, you answer every page at a run. A run, that's rule number two." Izzie and Cristina scamper to grab their packets and pagers. I make a mental note to thank Derek for letting me read through those very same packets a few nights before. Grabbing my pager but forgoing the packets, I follow the others down the hall, "Your first shift starts now and lasts forty-eight hours. You're interns," I listen to her put us in our place intently but at the same time I can almost predict what she is going to say as Derek and I have already had this discussion. We walk full speed across the bridge and it feels weird doing this without Derek because every other time I've been in the hospital since the move two weeks ago he has been by my side, "grunts, nobodies, bottom of the surgical food chain, you run labs, write orders, work every second night till you drop and don't complain!" All four of us interns step into an on-call room for a moment. My face turns red and I hope nobody notices the blush. The only thought is that the week before, after Derek's first shift and nearly three days apart, the two of us had a really rough round of sex in that very room, "Attendings hog them, sleep when you can, where you can, which brings me to rule number three," Part of me wonders, as I listen to Bailey rant, if Derek has given off a similar speech, "if I'm sleeping, don't wake me, unless your patient is actually dying. Rule number four, the dying patient better not be dead when I get there, not only would you have killed someone, you would have also woke me for no good reason, we clear?"

I raise my hand, as it seems Bailey has completed her lecture, "You said five rules. That was only four."

Her pager beeps and I know what is going to happen a second before it does, "Rule number five. When I move, you move." As the five of us sprint down the hallway I wonder if Bailey timed out her speech so that someone could page her at that very moment.

We follow Bailey out onto the helipad. As I wrestle with the gurney I realize whoever is in that helicopter is my first ever patient. I feel a little sick thinking that whoever it is will live or die according to me. This is a lot of pressure.

"What do we got?" Bailey asks the paramedics as we roll the patient out of the helicopter.

"Katie Bryce, fifteen-year-old female, new onset seizures, intermittent for the past week, ID lost en route, started grand mal seizing as we descended." As we work on Katie in a patient room there is a strange dance that seems to be happening. All four of us are trying to help her as she seizes as Bailey stands to the side and barks orders. Through all of this nurses' hands reach in and out adjusting or applying monitors and facilitating in our attempts to help Katie.

An attending, I know this because he is wearing the same indigo scrubs I find Derek so attractive in, enters the room, "So I heard we got a wet fish on dry land?"

"Absolutely Dr. Burke," Bailey replies. It's strange, because I've laughed about interns not knowing what they're doing with Derek before, but being one and being treated this way makes everything I've said seem wrong. Burke and I make eye contact and without him telling me I know he knows who I am. He's an attending, he's probably spoken to Derek and maybe even seen pictures of me.

"Dr. Bailey, I'm gonna shotgun her."

I'm about to ask what that means when Bailey explains to us, "That means every test in the book, CT, CBC, chem. seven, a tox screen," She might be known as the Nazi, but maybe she isn't an awful teacher, or at least I hope she isn't, "Cristina, you're on labs, George, patient workups, Meredith, get Katie for a CT, she's your responsibility now."

Oh my god, I am on my own. I'm so nervous I can't even find a little joy in Izzie having to do rectal exams all day. At least, judging by the assignments anyway, it seems Bailey doesn't know that I'm married to the head of a department. She strikes me as the type of woman who would put me on rectals for my entire intern year for that.


	3. Into the Fire 3

The elevator doors slide open on a floor I don't recognize. I'm lost.

Katie says to me, "You're lost."

"I'm not lost," I tell her. Derek showed me where the CT was last week. I shouldn't be lost. I mean we made out there so I should know where it is. I push Katie out of the elevator. Lost or not, I am not letting a brat like her know that, "How are you feeling?"

"How do you think I'm feeling?" I've made the executive decision that this girl has an annoying voice, "I'm missing my pageant."

I start wheeling her down the hall. I literally have no idea where we are. We could have somehow ended up in Mercy West Hospital across the city or Mount Sinai all the way across the country and I wouldn't be surprised, "You're missing your pageant." In high school I had pink hair and I wore all black. If there is anything I hated more in high school, it was pageant girls and now I need to deal with one all day.

"The Spokane Teen Miss?" She says this as if it is as important as Miss America, another pageant I don't watch, "I was in the top ten after the first two rounds. This is my year. I could've won." The corner I pushed the gurney around is a dead end. I double past the elevator and Katie asks, "Hello? You're so lost. What are you, like, new?" My only response to Katie is an angry face. I pull out my pager and page any landmarks I notice to Derek, begging for directions to CT.

Katie and I are going down a seemingly never ending hallway as I wait for Derek's reply, "I twisted my ankle. I do rhythmic gymnastics, which is like, really cool. Nobody else does it. And I tripped over my ribbon, and I didn't get stuck with someone this clueless. And that was like, a nurse." I hate this girl. I hate all pageant girls but I specifically hate Katie Bryce. My pager goes off and it is the only thing that stops me from leaping on the gurney and strangling my patient with my bare hands. I receive three consecutive pages that are just Derek laughing. After a moment he sends me a page with directions to CT. Then he sends two more of him laughing. Maybe instead of killing Katie I'll kill Derek, I think, but that would have to be after I thank him for the directions.

"I know where I'm going." I tell Katie after I put my pager back onto my scrubs.

She scoffs at me, "What did you have your boyfriend send you directions?" I don't respond, I just hope my face isn't as read as it feels. "Oh my god, you did!" Katie says. My face betrayed me, it seems, "Is it that dorky guy who was in the room? Or maybe…" Maybe I'll just kill myself and forgo all the trouble of murder, I think as I wheel Katie to CT.

At least I know my way to the cafeteria. I walk in as quickly as I can. There's a table filled with interns and I recognize Izzie, Cristina, and George all sitting there. George shoves an apple slice in his mouth as I approach and I'm willing to bet off of the guilty look on his face that they were talking about me. I'm too angry over Katie to care that they were talking about me. I announce my rage to the table, "Katie Bryce is a pain in the ass. If I hadn't taken the Hippocratic oath, I'd Kevorkian her with my bare hands." Looking up I see the entire table staring at me, part out of free and part out of judgement, "What?" I ask them.

Then I realize. They must have found out about Derek. That's probably what they were talking about. If my day hadn't started off bad enough with waking up on the couch hungover now the entire hospital is going to think I'm the intern who got hired because she is sleeping with the head of neuro.

Izzie starts to ask me, "Is it true Elli-" All the air is knocked out of me. I feel immense relief. They were talking about my mother, not Derek. I spent all of med school with people thinking I was only excepted because of my last name; I can handle that again. It's people thinking that I only married Derek for the job or that I only get surgeries because of my ring that I can't deal with.

Her question is cut off by Dr. Burke. I listen as he gives a speech about interns and surgeries only to announce that George gets the first one. As he talks I stare at him, trying to remember if Derek mentioned him. I'll have to ask later. Almost as if he can hear my thoughts I get a page from Derek.

I read _you look nice in your scrubs_ and my head shoots up. My eyes scan the cafeteria until they land on him sitting at a table with two other attendings. He smiles at me, a large grin.

Quickly I type back _wish I could be sitting with you_ and I smile a little as his smile widens, the crinkles that I love forming at the corners of his eyes.

 _Make friends_ his page says, followed quickly by an _I love you_.

Looking back to the other interns I watch for a second as George continues panicking over his surgery. I reply _I know_. I don't need to look back to know that Derek is shaking his head, bemused at my answer.

"Who's that?" Izzie asks me.

Looking around the cafeteria I respond, "Who?" I really hope she isn't talking about who I think she's talking about.

Her finger points directly to Derek, "That hot attending with the pretty eyes."

"I have no idea." I respond, fidgeting in my seat, "I mean I wasn't there when they introduced attendings," I pause for a second, I know for a fact Derek wasn't there this morning because we were just waking up around that time, "Was he not there when Webber introduced the attendings earlier?"

Shrugging I respond, "Dunno, maybe he's new or something."

"Maybe." Izzie says as if she's thinking deeply, "I wonder if he's single. Would it be wrong to date an attending?" The other interns laugh at her comment but I feel a little sick. Maybe we should have told people we were married. My hand instinctively moves to my breast pocket where my rings lay, it's comforting to feel them, even through the fabric of my shirt.

Just as I finish eating my pager goes off. _Parents 4023_. Katie's parents are in her room. I sigh, tell my fellow interns that I'll see them later, and head to see the beast.

Once I enter Katie's room I find two well-dressed tall blondes, she looks just like her parents. Before I can finish introducing myself as Dr. Grey, a title so new it feels foreign, Mr. and Mrs. Bryce begin bombarding me with questions. They want to know if we know what is causing the seizures if we know what caused the cause if we can fix is if she can compete in the next pageant. On and on the questions go and I am paralyzed with no answer. I stutter out an apology to them and say that I'll track down Dr. Burke for more information for them.

Opening a door, I come face to face with an irate Bailey, she barks, "What?"

"Katie's parents have questions. Do you talk to them, or do I ask Burke?"

Bailey shakes her head, "No, Burke's off the case, Katie belongs to the new attending now," My heart starts pounding in anticipation of the name she's going to say, "Dr. Shepherd, he's over there." From where we're standing I can't see him but I know who is on the other side of the wall. Logically I knew Derek and I would need to work together one day but I had really hoped it would be after I was an established intern and not on my very first case. Walking forward my eyes fall on Derek and I stop. I don't think I'm ready for this. Looking at him right now I don't see Dr. Derek Shepherd head of neurosurgery, I see Derek Shepherd my husband who cheats on the Sunday crossword puzzle and has fallen asleep on the toilet multiple times after long surgeries. He's talking with a couple of other attendings and smiling. I'm not ready for this. My body tenses up and I'm about to walk away when he looks up and his eyes fall on me. It doesn't register to him at first that I'm there, his eyes fall back to the chart in his hands before his head snaps up again to look, me directly in the eyes.

I'm not ready for this. After blinking once, I spin on my heels turn to the door behind me and hurry away. I hope he doesn't follow me. I'm walking down the hall in a manner that I hope shows purpose and not panic.

Maybe he won't follow me, "Meredith," He calls out. My luck has been awful all day, "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Actually," I start to say. Any protests I have a futile as he pulls my arm, "I was…" I don't finish my statement because he knows as well as I do that it was an excuse. Derek pushes me into the stairwell as he smiles. He looks over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.

"Dr. Shepherd," I say as I check to see if anybody else is in the stairwell.

In mock offense Derek responds, "Dr. Shepherd? This morning it was Derek." There's a playful light in his eyes and I hate him for the humor he finds in this, "Now it's Dr. Shepherd."

He's standing too close to me for it to be work appropriate but he's my husband and despite all logic I don't move away, "Dr. Shepherd, we should pretend we aren't married," I whisper the word, "Like we agreed."

"We aren't married?" He asks smiling, "So we didn't sleep together last night? Or eight years ago? Because both of those moments and all the time in between are fond memories I'd like to hold onto." As he speaks he leans closer to me.

I want to kiss him. Instead I say, "No. There will be no memories," I continue, "I'm not your wife in these walls, and you're not my husband. We can't exist. We agreed, right?" He nods along with my words but I know he's about to contradict me. After five years of marriage and eight years of knowing each other I know when he wants to rile me up and right now is one of those moments.

"You took advantage of me and now you want me to forget about it." Derek responds.

Despite myself I smile at him, "I did not take-"

He cuts me off, "I was drunk, vulnerable and good-looking and you took advantage. I didn't want to make these rules but you decided to have the conversation then and if I wanted to have sex with my wife I needed to agree. You took advantage of my weaknesses." He pretends to be deeply concerned and I feel my smile grow.

"Okay, I was the one who was drunk, and you are not that good-looking. And you agreed, Derek."

"Well, maybe not today," He says, "Last night, and our wedding day, and when you got me drunk and made drunk decisions about secrets, but last night I was very good-looking. I had my red shirt on, my good-looking shirt, you took advantage. I mean all my shirts are good looking but that shirt, my wife picked out that shirt for me, very good-looking." He walks past me to lean against another railing creating space between us that I do not enjoy.

I turn to face him arguing, "I did not take-"

"You want to take advantage again?" He steps closer to me, closer than we were before, "Say tonight?"

"No. You're an attending. And I'm your intern. And I'm here for forty-eight hours so definitely not tonight." He's staring at my lips and all I want to do is kiss him, "And stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you've seen me naked," I say, "Like I'm your wife." He smirks at me and I really really hate him sometimes. He takes another step closer to me and I snap at him, "Dr. Shepherd. This is inappropriate," Now he looks truly confused, "Has that ever occurred to you?" I start to walk away. My hand is on the doorknob when I hear him sigh. I stop in my tracks. I turn around to face him and take clear eager steps until I'm in front of him. As I walk I lift up my arms. I toss them around him and kiss him passionately. Just as he begins to respond to the kiss I break away. I know I must look frazzled but I smile at him jokingly as I brush some hair behind my ear. Waving my finger at him I say again, "Inappropriate." His laugh follows me out the door.


	4. Into the Fire 4

**A/N: Sorry for the formatting issue from when this was first published. Don't know what went wrong but it should be all good now!**

The attitude of interns in the gallery is disgusting. How could they be taking bets on how George is going to fail when it could have just as easily been one of them standing down there sweating through their scrubs? I'm listening to them argue over whether he'll cry or poop his pants and I snap, "Fifty says he pulls the whole thing off." They stare at me like I'm insane but I know that I'm not. Sure the Chief told us we were each other's competition but we should also be our biggest supporters. We are all going through the same thing and like hell if I'll turn against another intern. We need all the allies we can get here. I berate everyone in the gallery, "That's one of us, down there. The first one of us. Where's your loyalty?"

Cristina ignores me and says, "Seventy-five says he can't even ID the appendix."

I laugh as Izzie joins the bets with, "I'll take that action."

We might all be cynical but at least they can make me smile. I lean forward to watch as Burke enters the OR. I find it a little strange that the head of cardio is supervising an appendectomy, but I ignore that thought. Watching George start the procedure I wonder how Derek felt in his first surgery. I should ask him about it when I finally get home. Then I wonder how I will feel in my first surgery. I have no idea when it will be, but I do know that it's approaching. I hope there's nobody in the gallery taking bets on me the first time I hold a scalpel over someone.

"Here it comes." I say. The gallery cheers when George is handed a scalpel. Burke doesn't look pleased.

Cristina says, "That Burke is trouble," and I bet people have said the same exact thing about Derek, a thought which makes me laugh. He probably seems imposing in the OR but I know Derek and he's basically an overgrown five-year-old with hair products, I hope all surgeons are the same way. Scary in the hospital but great outside. If everyone is as intense as they seem the next year might just kill me and every other intern. My mouth hangs open as I watch George. He's actually performing surgery. It's incredible.

Well, it's incredible until everything goes wrong. I root for him but George's luck seems to be as bad as mine and he earns the notorious nickname 007. He's licensed to kill. But the entire gallery is filled with interns on our first day as surgeons. We're doctors but none of us know what we're doing. Each and every one of us has a license to kill.

After George finishes surgery the four of us head down to the basement. Izzie found a hall with unused gurneys earlier in the day when she was looking for a place to hide from rectal exams. The four of us, Bailey's interns, have seemed to become a united front. So far I'm enjoying these friendships. At the same time though, I've been in the hospital for nineteen hours and I already feel like dying. By the end of this shift I might need to be admitted into the hospital myself. Izzie is sitting cross legged doing stretches, Cristina is reading from some medical book she brought with her for her down time, I'm rereading the hospital procedural pamphlets, and George is wheeling himself back and forth in a wheelchair fretting over his nickname.

Izzie and I both assure him, "No one's calling you 007." Despite the fact that everyone is. We just don't want him to feel bad. George keeps going on about being called 007 and the three of us try to convince him otherwise.

Cristina tells him, "007 is a state of mind." but George doesn't find comfort from this statement since Cristina was the top of her class at Stanford and his, in her own words, a double doctor.

I would love to stay with them and complain but the beeping of my pager distracts me. _911 KB 4023._ It's a 911 page for Katie's room. I take off running towards her. While I hate this girl, I don't actually want her to die.

Swinging into Katie's room I find her sitting up in bed reading a trashy magazine, "Took you long enough," She says to me.

"You're okay? The nurse paged me 911." I'm breathless, I had to sprint up five flights of stairs to get her from the basement.

In her constantly annoying voice Katie tells me, "I had to go all Exorcist to get her to even pick up the phone."

"Wait. There's nothing wrong with you?" I ask as I pick up her chart.

"I'm bored."

I'm going to kill her, "You little…" My first day as a doctor and I'm going to murder my patient, "I'm not a cruise director." I wonder if Derek will visit me in prison.

"You don't have to wig out," While I'm there I figure I might as well take her vitals, "The pageant's supposed to be on cable, but this crappy hospital doesn't get the channel. If that cow Kylie Wood is gonna walk off with my crown, I have to see it. Can you call someone?" Maybe I should call psych or something, I joke to myself.

"Okay. This is an actual hospital. There are sick people here. Go to sleep, and stop wasting my time."

She complains as I leave the room, "But I can't sleep. My head's all full."

"That's called thinking. Go with it." It's probably the first time that girl has ever had a thought in her head.

As I leave the room I page Derek two words. _Kill me_.

Before today I knew about how crazy hospital hours are. I knew this all my life with my mom always being gone and then once I married Derek with his absurd schedule. Despite this, I wasn't ready for today. I am exhausted in every meaning of the word and the night on the couch did not do me any good.

In an attempt to stay awake I head down to the emergency room. The pit is mostly empty but I instantly zone in on Alex Karev pissing off a nurse. He's making assumptions. It's that whole hoof beats zebras and horses metaphor about waiting to see results and not jumping to conclusions. Apparently he never learned this lesson, though.

When he walks up to me I tell him this, "She may not have pneumonia, you know. She could be splinting, or have a PE."

He sighs, "Like I said, I hate nurses."

I have had enough today. I snap at him, "What did you just say? Did you just call me a nurse?"

Karev says, "Well, if the white cap fits…"

The only thing that stops me from wringing his neck is my pager beeping. _911 KB 4023_. Damnit, Katie. I start walking to her room.

I know as soon as I got onto the fourth floor I should have ran. There's a crowd of nurses in Katie's room and that would only happen if the emergency was real. I was paged 911 for a seizing patient and I walked. I am a terrible doctor. I start running to her room.

"What took you so long?" A nurse asks me. Well you see I'm a terrible doctor.

Another nurse tells me what is happening, "She's having multiple grand mal seizures," I'm a terrible doctor, "Now how do you want to proceed?" An absolutely terrible doctor, "Dr. Grey? Are you listening to me?" You shouldn't even call me Dr. Grey because I'm such a terrible doctor," She's got Diazepam, 2mg Diazepam," This girl is going to die because I'm a terrible doctor, "I just gave her a second ago," My mother would be ashamed of me, Derek is going to be ashamed of me, I'm ashamed of me, "Dr. Grey, you need to tell us what you want to do. Dr. Grey!" Everything seems to be moving in fast forward and slow motion at the same time.

I watch Katie seize and then I try to snap out of it, "Okay, she's full on Prazepam?"

A nurse tells me, "She's had 4mg."

I'm not a real doctor have they called real doctors, "Did you page Dr. Bailey and Dr. Shepherd?"

Another nurse tells me, "The Prazepam's not working."

And it goes on. Does she have this? Yes? No? Give her more? Have you paged him? Page him? Page him again!

"What do you want to do?" I want to go back to this morning and lay in my husband's arms and stay there forever, "Dr. Grey, you need to tell us what you want to do!" I want to go back in time and stop myself from ever becoming a doctor.

And then her heart stops. And I think mine does too. I'm holding the defibrillators my brain isn't working I tell them to charge I don't know what's happening I don't know what's happening. We charge then clear then defib then nothing then charge. Again and again. And then there's sinus rhythm. And then her blood pressure is going up. Then she's alive. Then Derek is here.

He runs in, "What the hell happened?"

I'm out of breath my brain isn't working and I think my heart is about to stop, "She had a seizure, and-"

"A seizure?"

"Her heart stopped." My heart stopped too.

Derek snaps at me, "You were supposed to be monitoring her."

I try to explain, "I checked on her and she-"

"I got it. Just - just - go." He dismisses me and I leave, I can't stay in there, "Someone give me her chart, please?" I can't remember the last time he was angry at me like this. I deserve it I deserve it I deserve it. She almost died he should be mad at me. I should quit.

In a daze I slowly walk out of the room and down the hallway. Bailey is walking towards me. She berates me, "You get a 911, you page me immediately, not in the five minutes it takes you to get to the emergency, immediately, you are on my team and if somebody dies it's my ass, can you hear me Grey?" No, I can't. And I walk away from Bailey. I keep walking. Cristina calls after me. I keep walking. I walk out the doors and into the pouring rain. Then, before I know what is happening, I throw up. I nearly killed a person. So I throw up.

I warn Cristina, "If you tell anyone, ever…" I'm about to reenter the hospital when I decide against it, "I'm just gonna sit out here for a bit, you go ahead."

"In the rain?" Cristina asks.

"In the rain." I say as I lean against the building and slowly slide to the ground.

I don't know how long I sit outside. It could be an hour it could be five minutes. Either way it feels like an eternity. I watch the rain and I think about quitting. I know I can't. I know I won't. I don't want to quit. But I still consider it. I'm so lost in my head that I don't realize someone else came outside until strong arms are being wrapped around me and I'm pulled tightly against Derek's chest. My hands find his shirt and grab it in fists. I tuck my head against the crook of his neck and I cry. He rubs small, slow circles on my back and whispers soothing words into my hair, periodically pressing soft kisses to the top of my head, my temple, and forehead. I don't pick up on what he says but I hear love, mistake, okay, alive, better, repeated again and again. I cling to Derek like he's a lifeline and he lets me. I'm hurting so much, teeming with so much guilt and anxiety, that I don't care that anybody from the hospital could see the two of us. I don't care that we started today wanting to be a secret. All I care about is being held by my husband which makes it all a little better. The sun is starting to rise when we finally break apart. I wipe at the tears that have dried my cheeks and while I'm no longer pressed against him, he keeps an arm securely across my shoulders.

"I'm sorry," I say, the first words I say to him since Katie seized.

"It's okay." He whispers, pressing another kiss to my temple.

I choke out, "It's not. She almost died because of me," Tears threaten to fall again.

He smiles, a sad sort of an I-love-you smile, "Did I ever tell you about my first night as an intern?" He asks me. The two of us had met about three months into his internship so he was far enough along that he could fake confidence to the med student he was trying to impress. I shake my head no. "Well my first patient was this really awful guy. He was old and smelly and just an absolute jerk. I was stuck with him for four hours, non-stop, because my resident hated me or something and he didn't let me leave his side until we were called up for an MRI, and I did a terrible job monitoring this guy. I missed all the warning signs for a heart attack and then as I'm preparing him for the MRI he lets out a string of profanities, telling me I'm the worst person ever and he hopes he dies, and I sarcastically said the same thing as I entered the scanning room. As soon as I left the room poor guy had a grand-mal heart attack and died in the machine. My resident put me on scut for the next two weeks. I wasn't allowed inside an OR until a month until my internship because I was so awful to this guy."

"Really?" I ask him, shocked.

"Really, really." He replies, "So being late for a 911 and having the patient survive isn't the end of the world, especially on your first day." I fling my arms around his torso and bury my head in his chest. I really love him.

"Thank you," I whisper.

He presses another kiss to the top of my head, "Just doing my job," he replies.


	5. Into the Fire 5

Every intern got the same page calling us to a conference room. I enter to find it already teeming with people. I sit beside Cristina in the back of the room, smiling at my friend as she sutures a banana. George laughs at her and she snaps at him, calling him 007. She then surprises both of us when she apologizes for using the nickname.

"Does anybody know why we're here?" Cristina asks the entire room.

Before anybody can answer Derek walks in, "Well good morning. I'm going to do something pretty rare for a surgeon, I'm going to ask interns for help," He walks the entire length of the room coming to stand directly beside the desk Cristina and I sit on, "I've got this kid, Katie Bryce. Right now, she's a mystery," There's a couple times that he looks back at me as he speaks. I feel a lot less like a failure seeing the great neurosurgeon Derek Shepherd come to a room full of interns exactly like me for help, "She doesn't respond to her meds. Labs are clean, scans are pure, but she's having seizures," All eyes in the room are on Derek and I feel my heart swell with pride. This is my husband in his element, teaching and being taught at the same time all while doing what he loves, "Grand mal seizures with no visible cause. She's a ticking clock. She's going to die, if I don't make a diagnosis," He starts walking away from me and for a split second I try to sneak a peak of his butt but the lab coat covers it, I slide down in my seat and decide that no matter how tired I am at the end of the day Derek and I are going to have some very hot sex when I get home, "Which is where you come in. I can't do it alone. I need your extra minds, extra eyes, I need you to play detective, I need you to find out why Katie is having seizures," As he gives us our orders everyone in the room seems to sit up straighter, excited with the prospect of finding the cause, "I know you're tired, you're busy, you've got more work than you could possibly handle. I understand. So, I'm going to give you an incentive," I notice the Chief standing in the doorway, he even came to watch Derek teach and I feel proud of him all over again, "Whoever finds the answer rides with me. Katie needs surgery. You get to do what no interns get to do. Scrub in to assist on an advanced procedure," I get excited about the idea of brain surgery but I know I won't be chosen. As much as I would love to scrub in for my patient, Derek can't choose me, I'm his wife after all and that would be blatant favoritism, "Dr. Bailey's going to hand you Katie's chart. The clock is ticking fast, people. If we're going to save Katie's life, we have to do it soon."

I grab the chart, already knowing most of the information on it. While I might not be able to scrub in, I might be able to get somebody I like the chance to scrub in. And that's just a side note. More importantly than that I want to diagnose my patient. I want to help Katie.

When Cristina asks me if I'd want to work if her to diagnose Katie, I agree immediately. I like Cristina and if I can't scrub in to help, she's the next best thing. I tell her, "I'll work with you, but I don't want in on the surgery. You can have it."

"Are you kidding me? It's the biggest opportunity any intern will ever get."

I shrug and lie to Cristina, "I don't want to spend any more time with Shepherd than I have to." I would honestly love to be with Derek in the OR but I can't do this, it would cast a shadow over every other surgery I do for the next year, with or without Derek. If he picks me for this once it comes out that we're married everyone will think that my entire career is based off of favoritism.

"What do you have against Shepherd?" I have absolutely nothing against him. I smile a little, except my body, I think to myself.

"If we find the answer, the surgery's yours. Do you want to work together or not?"

Cristina grins. She just won the jackpot. I think I did too, because at least I can make sure Katie is cured, "Deal." She says.

Working with Cristina towards a diagnosis is actually fun. We sit together leaning against a bookshelf in the research library of the hospital. Since we started brainstorming forty-five minutes ago, we've been bouncing different possible diagnoses back and forth. I cross my legs and scan through another medical journal as Cristina lists off some ideas we had nixed.

"Well, she doesn't have anoxia, chronic renal failure or acidosis. It's not a tumor because her CT's clean," Cristina says, "Are you seriously not going to tell me why you won't work with Shepherd?"

"No," I don't care if I'm becoming friends with her, I'm not telling her about Derek, I can't, "What about infection?" I try to keep our conversation directed towards Katie.

Cristina replies, "No. There's no white count, she has no C.T. lesions, no fevers, nothing in her spinal tap," I think maybe she's letting the Derek thing go and then she finishes by demanding, "just tell me."

"You can't comment, make a face, or react in any way," I don't even realize I'm saying any of this until it is said. Derek and I will have to talk about this later but it's not like I'm going to outright lie about anything, we were just planning on avoiding the truth. But she's asking and I'm just going to tell her. It might be easier having someone knowing. Have a little less sneaking in my life, "We're married." I turn to look at Cristina and she starts to raise her eyebrows and drop her mouth in shock before stopping.

She clears her throat and looks forward, "What about an aneurysm?"

I shake my head and suppress a smile. I asked her not to acknowledge what I said and she, even though clearly she wants to do otherwise, respects my wishes. It warms my heart.

Shaking my head again I say, "No blood on the CT, and no headaches."

"Okay. There's no drug use, uh, no pregnancy, no trauma," Cristina suddenly veers off topic, "Is he good? I mean, he looks like he would be, and I hear married sex is good, so is it any good?"

Ignoring Cristina's stares I keep focused on Katie's case, "What are the answers? What if no one comes up with anything?" It terrifies me that the bratty teenage girl I've been treating might not ever be able to grow out of her terrible selfish phase and into a real human. She might never leave this hospital. If we can't figure it out, then she will never leave this hospital.

"You mean if she dies?" Cristina seems to understand me. She hasn't seemed to judge me about Derek and she seems to get my dark and twisties.

"Yeah." I sit down on a stool and lean forward.

Cristina sighs and leans against the shelves, "This is gonna sound really bad, but I really wanted that surgery."

It's kind of funny how Cristina is thinking about the surgery and I'm thinking about the patient. Not to say that I haven't thought about the surgery, I would love that surgery. But I can't take the surgery even if I earn it. I think about Katie and her fake 911 pages and her complaining and her obsession with her pageant. She's never going to be a real person. "She's just never going to get the chance to turn into a person. The sum total of her existence will be almost winning Miss Teen whatever. You know what her pageant talent is?"

"They have a talent?" Cristina asked.

"Rhythmic gymnastics." We both laugh.

"Oh, come on." Cristina finds the supposed talent as absurd as I do.

A smile spreads on my face, "What is rhythmic gymnastics? I don't know - I can't even say it; I don't know what it is." Laughing feels really nice after such a hard day.

Katie was telling me about the gymnastics. She said something about ribbons and twirling. Cristina says, "Isn't it like something with a ball, and a," but I'm thinking about what Katie told me. Katie told me she fell. She tripped over her ribbons and she fell. What if that's the cause of all of this. I freeze. "What? Meredith, what?" Cristina asks, it's almost as if she can see the gears in my head turning.

I think I know what's wrong, "Get up! Come on!" I bound for the door, excitement clear in each step I take. Confused, Cristina follows me. As we walk towards the surgery floor I start explaining my realization to Cristina. Katie could very well have a burst aneurysm. She fell. She could have hit her head. We've all missed something so simple.

As we round a corner Cristina says to me, "The only thing that she could possibly need is an angiogram." The more we've discussed this possible diagnosis the faster Cristina and I have moved. By now we're all but sprinting down the hallway as we look for Derek. We both nearly miss him as he gets on an elevator but Cristina spots him and cries out, "Oh, oh, Dr. Shepherd! Just one moment," We're both out of breath and we lean against the elevator doors in an effort to compose ourselves and to keep Derek on the same floor as us, "Katie competes in beauty pageants-"

Derek snorts a little and replies, "I know that but we have to save her life anyway." He definitely said that for my benefit due to the fact that he knows of my deep rooted disdain towards pageant girls.

Still fighting with the elevator doors Cristina says, "Okay, she has no headaches, no neck pain, her C.T. is clean, there's no medical proof of an aneurysm-"

"Right." Derek drags out the word indicating that we need to get to our point quickly.

"But what if she has an aneurysm anyway?" Cristina finishes, presenting our theory to our attending. It's our first day on the job and we're presenting a far-fetched diagnosis to the head of the neurology department. If Derek wasn't my husband, I probably would be feeling pretty woozy right now. I mean I am feeling woozy but more so than I currently am.

He shakes his head, "There are no indicators."

"Ah, but she twisted her ankle," Cristina tries to sell our case to Derek, "A few weeks ago when she was practicing for the pageant-"

Derek cuts her off, "Look, I appreciate you're trying to help, but-"

Some doctor in the back of the elevator complains about us stalling so I jump into the conversation and explain why it could be a burst aneurysm, "She fell. When she twisted her ankle, she fell."

As Cristina speaks Derek and I hold eye contact, "It was no big deal, not even a bump on the head, you know she got right back up, iced her ankle and everything was fine, it was a fall so minor her doctor didn't even think to mention it when I was taking her history, but she did fall." I'm begging him silently to listen to us, to believe us. We're just trying to save a teenage girl's life after all.

Derek glances around at all the other irritated doctors and nurses in the elevator, "Well, you know the chances that a minor fall could burst an aneurysm, one in a million! Literally." As he speaks the doors close. Cristina and I stand staring at the stainless steel separating from us and Derek in defeat. We both sigh and turn away. Apparently our research wasn't enough. Apparently we can't help Katie.

But then I realize I know my husband. I know his stubbornness and his determination. I turn to Cristina, my back to the elevator and say, "He'll be back. Give him a few minutes. Once the idea is planted he'll need to check." Cristina looks at me like I'm crazy and we start to walk away.

The elevator dings. The doors slide open to reveal Derek. He steps onto the floor with purpose and starts walking forward, "Let's go." He says.

"Where?" Cristina asks. I'm already smiling though, because I know what Derek's response is. We're going to check for that aneurysm.

"To find out if Katie's one in a million."

My smile widens. That's the man I married. Quickly he tells Cristina to go to the techs and book a machine for Katie. He joins me to bring Katie to get her scans. On the way to her room we turn into a mostly empty hallway. I'm still in the process of walking when he pushes me against the nearest wall and starts kissing me. I arc up against him and kiss him back, pulling his lower lip into my mouth and nibbling on it. My fingers run through his curls and one of my arms is wrapped firmly around his shoulders allowing me to press my entire chest against his. After a minute we break apart, both of us panting and looking less than professional.

"Dr... Shepherd," I pant.

His only response is a grin. He reaches his hand out to me and despite our goals we set off with in the morning to be as professional and discreet as possible, I hold his hand the entire way to Katie's room.

As the machine runs the room is dead silent. Once the machine generates the scan we all hold our breath until Derek mutters, "I'll be damned."

The tech points to a dark spot on the scan and says, "There it is."

Cristina and I were right. She's going to get to scrub in and I'm just happy to know Katie will be alright.

Derek leans forward towards the screen. His jaw hangs open slightly and his eyes are wide. He's clearly surprised that two interns found an aneurysm that he missed. As soon as we get home I'm going to be rubbing this in and gloating. "It's minute but it's there," Cristina and I lean forward to get a better view of the scan, "It's a cerebachnoid hemorrhage. She's bleeding into her brain."

I just diagnosed a patient.

We walk out of the scan room, all of us smiling a little. Walking towards the nurses' station he explains to us, "She could've gone her entire life without it ever being a problem. One tap in the right spot-" Derek snapped.

"And it exploded." Cristina finished his thought.

"Exactly. Now I can fix it," Derek says, happily. He puts his arms around mine and Cristina's backs and congratulates us, "You two did great work. Love to stay and kiss your asses," He gives me a look that promises future asskissing, "but I gotta tell Katie's parents she's having surgery." He asks the receptionist for Katie's chart and starts thumbing through it.

I'm pleased to watch him for a moment but Cristina needs immediate recognition and her promised surgery, "Oh, and Dr. Shepherd, you said that you'd pick someone to scrub in if we helped."

"Oh, yes, right," That's exactly what he says whenever he forgets something, he forgot he bribed the interns to work on Katie's case, "Um, I'm sorry I can't take you both," He continues, "It's going to be a full house. Meredith, I'll see you in OR." He smiles at me for a second before walking away. I feel all of my blood rushing to my face. I can't believe he's giving me a surgery just because I'm his wife. Did he even think about whether or not Cristina deserved to scrub in? The death glare she gives me is strong enough that it could cause me to need surgery. Cristina tightens her jaw and then walks away, leaving me flustered and alone in the middle of the hospital.


	6. Into the Fire 6

I sit in a stairwell alone for a while thinking about what to do. I really want this surgery. My first surgery being a major one is such a high achievement. And to have my first surgery standing beside my husband would be a gift. But at the same time I don't want to sail through my intern year with gifts and pushes from Derek. I want to forge my own path. And I especially don't want to make enemies because my husband picked me for surgery. Making my decision, I walk to the basement and the lines of empty gurneys. Cristina and Izzie are sitting together, most likely ranting about me.

"I'll tell him I changed my mind, you can-" I try to give Cristina the surgery.

She snaps at me, "No, no, don't do me any favors. It's fine."

"Cristina," I try to reason with her.

"You know what, you did a cutthroat thing, deal with it. Don't come to me for absolution, you want to be a shark, be a shark."

I argue, "I'm not a-"

"Oh yes you are," Cristina says, "Only it makes you feel all bad in your warm gooey I-love-my-husband places. No, screw you. I don't get picked for surgeries because I married my boss, and I didn't get into med school because I have a famous mother. You know, some of us have to earn what we get." I turn away. I want to cry. I thought I had been making friends but it turns out we really are just the competition. I got find Derek. He needs to know that this isn't okay.

I finally find my husband in Katie's room. He's methodically shaving her head and the look of concentration on his face, even for such a simple task, is stunning. He looks up when I walk into the room and gives me a dazzling smile. All I can muster is a small curve of the corners of my lips. My arms are crossed in front of my chest and he can probably tell I'm upset.

Derek says, "I promised I'd make her look cool. Apparently being a bald beauty queen is the worst thing that happened in the history of the world," He smirks at that, "But I think she'd probably decided a pink haired rebel is a little worse." I roll my eyes. He just loves mentioning my rebellious phase. I'm pretty sure there's a box somewhere that he has as many copies of pictures from then as possible, in case I destroy the ones that I know of.

"Did you choose me for the surgery because I'm your wife?" I ask without hesitation.

"Yes." He switches which hand he holds the razor in and swings his stool around. I gasp his name angrily, prepared to scold him. There's a long pause before he tells me, "I'm kidding."

Kidding or not, I tell him, "I'm not going to scrub in for surgery. You should ask Cristina. She really wants it."

"You're Katie's doctor," He says, "And on your first day, with very little training, you helped save her life," He looks proud as he says that, "You earned the right to follow her case to the finish. You...you shouldn't let the fact that we're married get in the way of you taking your shot," I stare at him and a small smile spreads on across his face, "Now you, Dr. Grey, are going to scrub into this surgery whether you want to or not," His smile grows and I can't help but return it, "And I think I know, from personal Meredith Grey experience, that you want to." He's right. I really want to.

What I really wanted was to spend the time before my surgery with Derek, but he has other patients he has to take care of. Somehow, I end up sitting on a ledge outside with George. Just over forty hours into our internship and he has a massive crush on me. Despite that, I think I could be friends with him. He's sweet in that way that makes a person just want to befriend him. There are tears nearly spilling from his eyes and I'm just staring straight ahead.

"I wish I wanted to be a chef. Or a ski instructor. Or a kindergarten teacher." I confess.

His response makes me happy, it's nice not being the only one who feels lost, "You know, I would've been a really good postal worker. I'm dependable," I chuckle, "You know, my parents tell everyone they meet that their son's a surgeon. As if it's a big accomplishment. A superhero or something. If they could see me now…" I bet if his parents could see him right now they would be so proud. My mother would just think that I'm ordinary.

"When I told my mother I wanted to go to medical school, she tried to talk me out of it. Said I didn't have what it takes to be a surgeon. That I'd never make it. So, the way I see it, superhero sounds pretty damn good." Derek's a superhero. He's the reason I made it through med school. He helped me with so much.

George blinks slowly. I can tell he is thinking. His question surprises me and I don't really have an answer to it, "We're going to survive this, right?" All I can do is smile at him and enjoy the moment of calm.

I wring my hands as I stand in the opening between the scrub room and the OR. Derek is wearing a fish scrub cap that I had bought him at celebrate when he finished his intern year. Through his surgical mask I can tell he's smiling at me. There's a twinkle in his eyes and the crinkles at the corners are there. His smile makes me confident and I step forward.

I've heard him say it a million times but standing next to him, a patient on the table, covered in sterile scrubs, and scalpels next to me at the ready, make Derek's declaration sound new once more. "All right everybody, it's a beautiful night to save lives, let's have some fun."

It's like a choreographed dance, the preparation for the surgery. Plastic is draped over Katie lights are turned on and off. People move so fluidly it's like they're floating. I shift the weight between my feet and crane my neck trying to get a look at what Derek is going. I want to see the magic happen. _I can't think of any one reason why I want to be a surgeon. But I can think of a thousand reasons why I should quit._ He makes the first incision and I feel my breath catch. _They make it hard on purpose._ I watch intently as they suction bleeders and clear the way to Katie's brain. _There are lives in our hands._ I listen to the whirr of the drill and watch the movements of everyone else in the OR. It seems like the entire world is spinning and I'm on the one piece of solid ground. Everything is moving around me and I just watch on in awe. _There comes a moment when it's more than just a game._ Katie starts to crash. The monitors start beeping and the dance becomes chaotic. Still I watch on. Derek's hands move so gracefully. He was born to do this. Seeing him work from the gallery is nothing compared to watching his hands work up close. Everything is so precise and so delicate and so beautiful. And then I realize he's making eye contact with me. My head perks up. He motions with his head for me to come towards him. There's a smile behind his surgical mask. _And you either take that step forward, or turn around and walk away._ It feels like I'm moving in slow motion. Nothing feels real. This is the moment I've been building up towards. To actually be in surgery. Derek watches me until it's clear that I'm coming towards him. He then redirects his attention to Katie's open head. I spare a glance up to the gallery and Cristina is there, looking bitter. And I honestly don't care because I'm about to watch a surgery only inches away from it happening. I'm doing to be part of the surgery. As I come to stand next to Derek he looks at me. We hold eye contact for a moment. He whispers that he loves me. I nod. We then both look down at Katie's brain. I watch as he clips the aneurysm. When the clip is in place I can feel his eyes on me, but I can't stop staring through the microscope. Just below me is an open human brain. One day I'm going to perform surgery on that. _I could quit. But here's the thing: I love the playing field._ I look up at Derek and watch his face as he works. I look back to the brain and I see exactly what he sees. Something incredible.

The process of scrubbing out passes me by in an instant. I barely realize I'm out of the OR. I sit in a chair frozen. I just was in surgery. I think I'm on a high. I don't even turn to look at Cristina when she bursts into the atrium area where I sit, dazed.

She stands before me and says, "It was a good surgery."

"Yeah." Is the only response I can muster.

I'm surprised when she sits down next to me. She sighs and says, "We don't have to do that thing where I say something, and then you say something, and then somebody cries, and there's like a moment…"

I crinkle my nose and respond, "Yuck." Despite this, I smile. She wants to be my friend. I have a friend here.

"Good," She says, "You should get some sleep. You look like crap."

"I look better than you." I joke.

"That's not possible." Cristina shakes her head as she gets up. I'm happy, really happy, at this very moment. I watch her walk away and then return to my post-surgery daze.

Then Derek comes out of the surgical hallway. He sighs, loudly, as he walks over to the closest counter to jot down notes in what is presumably Katie's chart. I watch him as he rolls his shoulders to relieve the tension. He rips the scrub cap from his head and clicks the pen in his hand multiple times. I don't think he realizes that I'm there.

"That was amazing." I say.

He smiles and nods his head. His answer is a low throaty hum in agreement.

"You practice on cadavers, you observe, and you think you know what you're going to feel like standing over that table, but...that was such a high." I don't even know what I'm saying but there is so much emotion rolling through me I just need to say something.

He closes the chart and looks at me. He really deeply looks at me. The tenderness in his eyes shows all the love he has for me and they're as mesmerizing as surgery, to me. "I don't know why anybody does drugs."

He nods his head again and smiles, "Yeah." He says. It hits me, from the look in his eyes, that the high he's agreeing with doesn't come from surgery but comes from me. Grabbing the patient chart and his scrub cap he walks over to me and collapses in Cristina's vacated chair. He slides down in the chair so far that his head is well below mine. He smiles up at me.

"I love you." He says.

I nod and hum in response before saying, "I love you, too."

He then looks down at the chart in his hand, "I should go do this."

"You should."

"I'll see you around." He smiles at me as he leaves and I sit for a moment, basking in my love for him instead of my surgery high.

 **A/N: So there's one more chapter, it's really short. It's just the end of the day. Don't worry though! There's more MerDer coming your way! I'm currently finishing up a one-shot that will be posted either tonight or tomorrow and I'm in the middle of an AU story about season 2. My AU is a multi-chapter fic, longer than this one. The reason I haven't posted it is because I want to have it done before I start sharing it. Happy Holidays for those who celebrate tonight!**


	7. Epilogue: A Hard Day's Night

Derek comes home to find me asleep on the couch. I had tried to stay awake for his shift to end but after forty-eight consecutive hours, I was wiped out. I wake to him kissing my forehead.

"Hi," I say groggily, as I sit up propping myself up with my elbows.

"Hey," He says, smiling.

"Long day," I say.

"Yeah?" He grins and sits next to me on the couch as he kicks of his shoes and drops his briefcase, "Want to tell me about it?" He wraps his arms around me and a sink against him.

"Well the day started with me waking up naked with an outrageously attractive man next to me," I joke, "Turns out he's my boss. Who'd have figured?" He laughs, "Basically today told me if I thought med school was rough I have another thing coming for me. It's like that out of the frying pan into the fryer."

"Into the fire," He corrects, "So, how was jumping into the fire?"

"It was a high." I respond before kissing him soundly on the lips.

 **A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who read, reviewed and followed** ** _Into The Fire_** **! I'd like to take this time remind you all that I am currently writing a longer Grey's fic that is a season 2 AU so stay on the look out for that! Happy Holidays and Happy New Year (because 2016 is just a few short days away, after all).**


	8. Live and Learn 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. A lot of the dialogue is direct from the show. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **A/N: This is a continuation of "Into the Fire," this chapter is based off of episode 2,** _ **The First Cut is the Deepest.**_ **While originally I planned on having this as a separate fic from "Into the Fire," I really like the idea of having this as a multi-chap story. So until all of this episode is posted, this story is going to be listed as incomplete. I'm going to be honest with you, I'm not sure how many episodes I'm going to cover in this fanfic, which is why after each episode is posted I'm marking the story as complete again. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

 _Got kicked in the head  
So I started a fight  
Cause I knew I was right  
But I learned I was wrong  
_ **The Cardigans**

* * *

 _It's all about lines. The finish line at the end of residency, waiting in line for a chance at the operating table, and then, there's the most important line. The line separating you from the people you work with. It doesn't help to get too familiar. To make friends. You need boundaries between you and the rest of the world. Other people are far too messy. It's all about lines. Drawing lines in the sand, and praying like hell no one crosses them._

* * *

"We don't need roommates," I argued, "We can afford this house easily."

Spooning a scoop of muesli into his mouth Derek grinned, "Yeah but wouldn't roommates be fun?"

I sighed and put the newspaper I had been reading down on the table. I grabbed Derek's upper arm and pulled a little so he would look at me. It had been a week since I had started my first year of residency as an intern at Seattle Grace and everything seemed to be a blur. I couldn't remember a time in my life where I had gotten so little sleep or been spread so thin. Never, in the eight years of knowing Derek, had I seen my husband so little. If anybody tried to tell me sleep is for the weak, I would probably punch them. Sleep is for anybody other than me, it seems, and I really wished I was sleeping more. Instead, I survive on caffeine and sugar and probably set a terrible example for my patient's dietary needs. My lack of energy made Derek's insistence that we get roommates all the more grating because arguing with him slows down my coffee consumption.

"Where would we even get roommates, the hospital? This is ridiculous, Derek."

Putting down his spoon, Derek leaned over and planted a quick kiss to my cheek. He then reached across the table and handed me a small stack of _roommates wanted_ print-outs. "Look," He said, "We have this large and mostly empty Ellis-like house that makes both of us uncomfortable. I figured we could fill it up with other people. I mean roommates is as un-Ellis as it gets, right? So I printed out a couple of flyers for you. It's your decision." He stood up and grabbed his empty bowl and my own to bring over to the sink. "I'll see you at work?" He asked, already knowing the answer, as he left the kitchen.

Watching him leave I sighed. He had been smiling because he knew he had won the battle. We were going to be getting roommates.

* * *

I rolled my eyes as two of my fellow interns begged to move in with me. I couldn't tell my friends why they couldn't move in with me, the reason of course being my secret marriage to an attending, and instead had to seem like a terrible friend to two people in desperate need of a place to live.

"I just want two total strangers who I don't have to talk to, or be nice to," I explained before going on to defend the mocha latte I brought for Bailey. I lied though. I told Cristina the latte wasn't a bribe but it was completely and utterly a bribe. When Derek first had interns they would often bribe him into surgeries and being a man with an insatiable ego, any bribe almost always got a lowly intern to observe, if not cut. Apparently Bailey is of a stronger will than my husband. She just took my offered coffee and left me with the trauma patients, no surgery in my future.

When Bailey shouted at us to move the four of us scattered instantly. I snatched a pile of charts from the nearby nurses' station and went to wait with the elevators. Even before I was in front of him, I felt his eyes on me. To be honest, I'm pretty sure Derek is finding the secrecy of our marriage to be a joke. It's not like we're lying about being married, it's just nobody has asked and I'd like to keep that information out of public knowledge for as long as possible. But he's been having fun with it. He's been flirting with me and making eyes at me and acting as if we don't know each other but as if he'd like to know us.

"Seattle has ferry boats," He says nonchalantly as he stands a few feet behind me, not looking up from his phone.

Looking straight ahead I smile a little, "Yes," I decide to play along with him. While I find the secrecy important, I really don't need the added ridicule from my peers that would come from me being married to the head of neurosurgery, having a secret between the two of us is a little fun. The other night when we were lying in bed we were joking about how our life felt like a spy movie. He twirled my hair around in his fingers as he declared me his personal Bond girl. It was a peaceful and perfect moment, just the two of us together in our house, which is one of the reasons I don't want to know my roommates. If I let Izzie and George move in with us, Derek and I will need to sneak around our own house which sounds a lot less appealing as a married couple than it did as a college student in love with a first year resident.

"I didn't know that," He continues, my phone vibrates for a moment in my pocket and I can only assume it's a text from him that he's typed up right as we spoke, "We've been living six weeks, I didn't know there were ferry boats."

Nodding, I respond, "Seattle is surrounded by water on three sides."

"Hence the ferry boats."

At the ding of the elevator, I smirked. If he's going to have fun with this, so am I. Riling Derek up has always been one of my favorite past times.

"Now I have to like it here," He told me as he looked up from his phone, "Now I have to like it here. I wasn't planning on liking it here. I'm from New York. Genetically engineered to dislike everywhere, except Manhattan," As Derek talks we both board the elevator. I hit the button for my floor and stand near the back of the elevator, still smirking. "I have a thing for ferry boats."

Once the doors slide close I insist, "We're still not telling people."

"Did I ask you to tell people," He looks over at his shoulder at me for a second before going back to facing the door, "Do you want me to tell people?"

"I'm not telling people," I reply, "And we're definitely not doing anything in the hospital," He sighs as he's about to respond but I cut him off. I can practically feel him rolling his eyes, "And don't say you don't want to sleep together in the hospital because the sexual desire is radiating off of you like a horny teenager. You're my boss."

"I'm your boss's boss."

I snap at him, "You're my husband. But you're my teacher. You're my teacher's teacher. And you're my teacher."

With each word Derek tosses his head to the side to emphasize his point, "I'm your sister, I'm your daughter."

"Derek," I declare, "I'm drawing a line. The line is drawn. There's a big line."

I can practically feel Derek's smirk, despite the fact that I can't see it, when he asks, "So, this line. Is it imaginary, or do I need to get you a marker?" He turns to look at me, his smirk still painted on his face.

It takes me a moment. I'm not longer thinking. For a second the grip on my charts tightens before I drop them. They go scattering across the floor of the elevator and I flung myself at Derek. I know he wasn't expecting me to do this because there's a delay in his arms coming to wrap around me. I push him against the wall of the elevator kissing him desperately. It only takes him a second before he's kissing me back with just as fervor. He picks me up for a moment, his hands roaming my body, and he spins us so now I'm pinned against the wall instead of him. Still kissing, I spin us one more time. All too soon the ding of the elevator causes us to break apart. I pull away from him and as the doors slide open I drop to the ground to pick up my charts. Derek stands beside me and he seems to be in a daze. I smirk knowingly as I exit the elevator.

"We'll talk later?" Derek calls after me, a hopeful tone to his voice. I roll my eyes as I continue walking away. He's going to be insufferable after this.

Unfortunately, after leaving my impromptu elevator makeout session I find myself paged to a trauma room with a rape victim. I process her injuries, my eyes scanning over her bloodied body feeling sick to my stomach. When my eyes fall to her shoes the world seems to tilt off the axis. She's wearing my shoes. Those stupid leopard print shoes that squeeze my toes that I always complain about. The ones that I've had since college and should have thrown out years ago. The shoes that for some unknown reason I wore today.


	9. Live and Learn 2

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. A lot of the dialogue is direct from the show. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

"Allison," I tell everyone. They need to know that she isn't a faceless victim, even if she fought back, "Her name is Allison."

Derek looks up at me for a second and our eyes meet over his surgical glasses. He repeats her name with purpose before going back to work. I know he's thinking about me as he works. Not that those thoughts are distracting him from the surgery, but he is thinking at least partially about me. I once was Allison. I remember the night I told Derek. It was in his arms that night as I finally told someone about my experience and cried that I knew I loved him. Ever since he's been protective of me and while sometimes it can drive me insane, at the end of the day I love him even more for it.

My thoughts go back to the surgery when Burke pulls out a piece of flesh from the victim. He asks us, clearly confused, "What is this? Does anyone know what this is?"

Staring at it, it takes a moment to process before I gasp, "Oh my god."

"What? Spit it out, Grey," Burke demands.

"She bit it off," I reply, still shocked.

All eyes are on me after Burke asks me to clarify. "That's his," I pause for a moment and gesture towards the flesh Burke is presenting, "Penis. She bit off his penis." As soon as I say this there's a few quiet groans and grimaces from the men in the room as they think of their own. Burke drops the severed penis into a dish as quickly as possible.

Walking through the hospital halls with a penis in the cooler gives me the strangest feeling. I feel as if everybody knows what I'm carrying. As I wait in the Chief's office his secretary asks if she can see it. Stunned, I look between her and the cooler before she decides better. It's then that the Chief comes in and I'm forced to endure an awkward conversation about my mother. Nobody except Derek and I know about her Alzheimer's everyone else believes that the great Ellis Grey is traveling and writing a book.

I placed the penis cooler down on a table in the Chief's office, prepared to leave. Then his secretary tells me I need to take it with me and I'm confused. I thought that a severed penis was the Chief's responsibility. But apparently because I collected the specimen I am now the proud guardian of a severed penis in a cooler.

"Custody of a penis," I say, just to clarify.

Chief Webber replies, "Yes. Until the cops come for it."

"Okay. Well, what am I supposed to do with the penis?" I ask.

He has no answer.

* * *

Despite the fact that I know George has a crush on me, I've befriended him. He's a sweet guy and he means well. When he saw how shaken up I was about Allison having my shoes, he convinced me to join him at the happiest spot in the hospital. Nearly every person has been in a room like this before. Surrounded by people with only hours age differences than them. George and stand side by side looking through the window at the newborns. Everything is so new and bright and shiny outside this room. Every bassinet is holding potential, an untouched human who has everything to gain and learn. It's incredible, looking in on them.

"You are really cute," I whisper at the babies. Looking at them, I can't help but think of my future children. Derek and I will have children one day, I know it. He's going to be an incredible father. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be a terrible mother but he'll be so good I won't be able to damage the kids that much. Every day I get closer to having my future children, which is a strange thought. Definitely not this year, I will not be the pregnant intern, but in three or four years Derek will be standing at this window staring at our baby. It makes me happy and excited, just picturing our future imaginary baby.

But as I look at the babies I notice one, a newborn boy, start to discolor. He's crying and squirming and right before my eyes he turns blue. Without thinking I hurry into the nursery, my stethoscope against his chest in an instant. Cyanosis is serious, it's a symptom of dangerous heart conditions and can be a precursor to more severe conditions. By the time I'm with him, his skin tone is back to normal but when I listen to his heart I hear a distinct murmur.

As I'm listening, a pediatrics intern comes in. She's mad at me for going out of my department, which is understandable because I am technically breaking hospital policy by doing this. But he's a newborn baby and he deserves a fighting chance and to at least have tests run because of his murmur. Grabbing my penis, I leave the nursery. I need to talk to someone with authority about that baby right away.

* * *

So far today I've been presented with terrible perspective roommates, two patients I can't help, and a severed penis in a cooler. After another set of failed interviews, I find myself in the ICU watching Allison. Looking at her and thinking about the baby in the nursery, I feel helpless. I'm absolutely lost in thought until Derek comes to my side, also looking in at Allison.

"Mer," He says as he joins me, "I've called every hospital in the county," As he speaks Derek moves into the room and checks Allison for pupillary response, "Sooner or later, the guy that did this is going to seek medical attention, and when he does, that penis you're carrying around is going to nail him."

"Where is her family?" I ask him.

Derek answers matter of fact, "Doesn't have any."

"No siblings?" I ask him, not believing such a damaged girl would have no one.

Shaking his head, Derek leaves Allison's bedside and goes to update her chart, "No. Both parents are dead. She just moved to Seattle three weeks ago. Welcome to the city."

I keep staring at her and listen to the steady beat of her monitors and machines. She could have so easily been me. Without Derek, if something would happen to me, she would be me.

Noticing my silence and staring, Derek checks on me, "Meredith, you okay?"

"Yeah," I lie to him, "I'm fine," He knows I'm never fine when I say that, "I just...have to do something. I have to go."

As I start to leave Derek grabs my arm. Our eyes meet and he asks again, this time worried, "Mer, are you sure you're okay?" Smiling sadly, I shake my head a little before I start to walk away again. He releases my arm but his steady stare lets me know how much he cares.

"I'm going to stay with her," He tells me, letting me know where I can find him if I need him. The words go unsaid, but I know that as I walk away he's telling me he loves me.


	10. Live and Learn 3

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. A lot of the dialogue is direct from the show. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

Dr. Burke had dismissed my concerns about the newborn in peds without a second thought and I'm feeling dejected. Cristina finds me there, sitting in the lobby after a failed conversation with the Head of Cardio-Thoracic Surgery.

"What're you doing down here?" She asks me as she leans against a nearby chair.

I sigh, "Just sitting here with my penis. What about you?"

"Hiding from Alex."

I glance through the large glass windows that surround the SGH lobby and think about how much easier everything was before becoming an intern. Before coming here, I didn't need to hide my marriage, I didn't need to see myself in rape victims, I didn't need to worry about an untreated baby, and I most definitely did not need to carry around a severed penis in a cooler.

Without thinking I blurt out, "I kissed Derek."

"You're married," Cristina replies, as if the kiss means nothing.

"In the elevator," I add, hoping she realizes how absolutely wrong and immoral and totally breaking the rules that kiss was.

Cristina's voice is emotionless as she repeats me, "Oh, you kissed him in the elevator."

"I was having a bad day," I argue, as if it gives me an excuse for breaking my own self-imposed rules, "I am having a bad day."

"Oh, so this is what you do on your bad days. Make out with Dr. McDreamy," She says, starting to walk away.

Following Cristina, I mention, "Well, that, and you know, carrying around a penis just makes everything seem so shiny and happy."

Munching on a potato chip, Cristina teases, "George said Alison was wearing your shoes."

Nobody else understands why it is so unnerving to me that she's wearing my shoes. Honestly, I'm not so sure why it freaks me out so much. Maybe it's because of my near incident with rape. Maybe it's because I hadn't planned on wearing these shoes but _something_ about them seemed to call to me this morning. Maybe it's because I have been running on no sleep for the past week and a half since starting my internship and I might just be dying slowly inside. No matter why, I think it's weird that Allison is wearing my shoes. No matter what anybody else says, it's weird.

Even weirder than our matching shoes is the car the swerves and comes to a halting stop outside the hospital. The driver stumbles out, his entire abdomen and groin covered in blood. Just steps away from his car he collapses to the brick and hospital staff immediately jump into action. Cristina and I run out. Looking at him I know who he is. The only thing to do is to call security. I found the owner of my penis.

Just earlier that day I was in this man's would-be-victim's surgery and now I stand in his. Burke said earlier that Allison was a fighter and looking at her rapist I know he was right. The rapist has more damage and he didn't succeed in his attack. Instead he lost his penis and with the combination of teeth tearing and stomach acid, he's never going to have that again.

It's late by the time Cristina and I get out of surgery. Bailey's ragtag group of interns, that I am a part of, have all congregated on the extra gurneys in the basement. Despite the fact that we have the rapist in custody in the hospital, the police won't send an evidence team until the morning so as I take a break, I'm still accompanied by my penis cooler.

All five of us are sitting in a line when George asks a question that is on all of our minds, "Who here feels like they have no idea what they're doing?"

Every single one of us raises our hands. Then Bailey spots us and she scatters us just as quickly.

* * *

With no surgeries or patients to check on at the moment, I go back to the nursery window. The baby, the one that I was worried about before, has his parents watching him through the window. They look enamored. Just like every time I'm at this window, I can't help but picture Derek one day looking throughout our own children with that same look in his eyes. Shaking that thought from my mind I turn to the newborn's parents. Since I noticed something wrong, something that has not been addressed, it feels like my responsibility to tell them. They need to know that something might be wrong with their son.

The peds intern from before gets her resident and I'm about to be torn a new one when Burke swoops in and saves the day. He quickly takes charge of the patient, informs the baby's parents what tests will be done, and then leads me away.

"You're a busy man," I say to him, the excuse he used before when he said he couldn't help the newborn.

He shrugs and replies, "I'm a busy man."

The next time I see him, Burke tells me that I was right. The baby had a birth defect, a serious condition known as tetrology affirmed lower pulmonary artresia. Surgery, which Burke is scheduling for tomorrow, can almost guarantee the baby a long and healthy life. Despite Burke's threat about making my residency hell on earth, I'm glad I did this. That baby needed me. Maybe I can't do anything for Allison and maybe I can't un-do my own past with a similar close call, but I can make someone's future brighter and that is enough for me.

* * *

By the time I make it back to Allison's room it's been over twelve hours since I was last there. It's just about seven in the morning and I'm itching to get out of the hospital and get a good night's sleep. Or I guess a day's sleep. I just need sleep at this point. I've been with the severed penis for nearly twenty-four hours and despite all the time that's passed, it seems Allison hasn't woken up. Derek's sitting in her room, working on his laptop, and he tells me there hasn't been any changes in her status.

I ask him a question that I already know the answer to, knowing my husband, "Have you been here all night?"

"Mmhm, yup," He confirms my question before looking up at me and saying, "You know if I were in a coma all four sisters would be here. All their kids too. I'd want them here. Having no one? I can't imagine that."

Looking at Allison laying in that bed, comatose and alone, I'm sent back to my attack. I was seventeen and I hadn't been home in two weeks, not that my mom had noticed. I'd just been sleeping in the streets of Boston being a free spirit. It was well past three in the morning when it happened, out of nowhere a man ripped me from a bench and started going for me. It was terrifying and traumatic. The only reason nothing more happened was because I was close enough to a twenty-four-hour diner run by a sweet old couple who heard my screams. If I was anywhere else, I would have been Allison. It could have been me and back then, my mother counted for nothing. In reply to Derek all I say is, "I can."

In a fluid motion he closes his laptop and takes three large steps across the room towards me. Despite the fact that we're hiding our marriage in the hospital, he holds me. He puts his hands on my upper arms and looks straight into my eyes. He looks worried, I know he's probably been worried about me all night. Lowering his voice to a soft whisper so nobody passing by can hear he promises me, "If that were you, god forbid, you would be as far from alone as possible. You'd be absolutely surrounded. My sisters would be here. My mother. And I'd be by your side the entire time," He gently brushes a stray piece of hair behind my ear, "I'd be there, okay?"

With a small smile, I nod. I can imagine Allison's position because it used to be me. But it isn't me anymore. Ever since meeting Derek I've had a safety net, somebody to be there with me no matter what. If something were to happen, he'd be with me.

Once Derek is sure that I'm fine, he smirks a little and moves to lean against the door frame. He jests, "So we're kissing here but we're not married here?"

I roll my eyes, "I knew that was going to come up."

"Don't get me wrong," He defends, "I like the kissing. I'm all for the kissing. More kissing, I say."

"I have no idea what that was about," I say.

"Is it going to happen again? Because if it is, I need to bring breath mints," I know that he's having too much fun with the situation when he continues in a whisper, "Put a condom in my wallet."

I whisper back, "Shut up now if you want a chance of anything at home."

Derek lets out a quick giggle and sticks his tongue in his cheek. I spare a glance at him and I feel a small smile quirk, I really do love him. Looking between him and Allison I suddenly think of that baby with the heart defect that has everything ahead of him. I explain a little about the baby to Derek and he knows I'll tell him the full story later, which I will. But I feel the need to ask him, "How do we get from there to here?"

As I tell Derek everything on my mind he makes a move to comfort me. He's almost holding me when Allison's machines start beeping, indicating her ICP has doubled. Sprinting into surgeon mode Derek gets to work, ordering an OR, and I hit the code blue button to get help to Allison's room.

* * *

Both of our shifts ended at noon. I find Derek standing in front of the elevator, on his phone. I wouldn't be surprised if he's doing what he did when our shift began and is texting me. A moment later my phone vibrates and a roll my eyes.

Not looking up from his phone Derek says, "So. It's intense...this thing I have for, ah, ferry boats I mean."

Moments later the elevator opens and we both get on. Just like yesterday morning, it's just the two of us on the elevator. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye and smiles a little, as if he knows what I'm thinking. Adjusting my bag, I move toward him. I wrap my arms around his neck and pin him to the elevator wall. My lips are centimeters from him, so close that we might as well be kissing.

"No self-control," Derek breathes huskily, "It's sad, really."

I lean in a little closer and brush my nose against his cheek, still not kissing him. To toy with him I make a little sound, somewhere between a sigh and a gasp, something I know that always drives him wild. I know I hit my target by his quick intake of air, he's clearly turned on. He tilts his head so his lips are close to mine, expecting me to cave in and kiss him. Instead I move my lips to right against his ear, close enough to nibble just the way he likes.

"Oh, by the way," I tell him seductively, then I quickly pull away and look him dead in the eye, "I told Izzie and George they could move in." Without giving Derek the kiss that he wanted I step away back to the center of the elevator, smirking. He stays leaning against the wall, gasping for air. A quick glance towards him shows a bulge in his jeans from his arousal and I'm proud. That's what he gets for not taking the secrecy seriously.

"What?" He asks in disbelief as the elevator doors slide open.

Laughing I reply, "I'll see you later, Dr. Shepherd."

No self-control my ass.

As I walk away I'm proud, that's what he gets for being so adamant about roommates. Then it dawns on me, I'm going to need to be secretive about my marriage in my own house. I'm going to be punishing myself. "Shit."

* * *

 _So, you can waste your life, drawing lines, or, you can live your life crossing them. But there are some lines that are way too dangerous to cross. But here's what I know. If you're willing to take the chance, the view from the other side is spectacular._

 **A/N: And thus concludes episode 2. Stay tuned for the next chapter, I've already finished writing my take on episode 3 and I'm a good way through episode 4. Hopefully, this story will cover all of season 1. I cannot promise it will continue from there, but it probably will. If you enjoyed, please take a moment to review, it really does help with motivation.**


	11. Fools Like Me 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. A lot of the dialogue is direct from the show. No copyright infringement intended.**

* * *

 _But I did, I can  
I was, I am  
Only human, living, dying  
Just like any fool who ever breathed  
_Fools Like Me - **Lisa Loeb**

* * *

 _We live out our lives on the surgical unit. Seven days a week, fourteen hours a day. We're together more than we're apart. And after a while the ways of residency become the ways of life. Number one: always keep score. Number two: do whatever you can to outsmart the other guy. Number three? Don't make friends with the enemy. And number four: everything, everything's a competition._

* * *

I am still mostly asleep. Vaguely, I can hear Derek's breath, which I feel, warm, against the back of my neck, and the pattering of Seattle rain against my window. I'm cozy, wrapped tightly in my blanket and content to be asleep. Despite the fog of my sleep, whispers break through from the other side of the door.

There's a loud voice saying, "You can't go in there, her _husband_ is in there she…"

Whoever was speaking was cut off by a quick, "I don't care."

Barely aware that my door is opening, I adjust the comforter to cover Derek's face. He had been laughing the night before about the fact that it had been two days and our roommates still hadn't realized that the Seattle Grace Hospital's infamous McDreamy was my husband. I know they would find out soon, but I keep putting off telling them. I'm not ready for the judgement and the accusations.

My happy bubble of sleep is popped when I get the sensation that someone is watching me. Eyes snapping open, I sit straight up in bed to see Izzie standing in my room, holding her mug. Surprised, I cry out, "Aaah," and frantically, I check to make sure Derek isn't visible. Sighing once I'm sure she can't see who he is, I turn to her angrily.

"George's room is bigger than mine," She says, as if it is the most pressing matter in the world.

Still half asleep, I climb out of bed, leaving an unconscious Derek covered and alone. As I step away from my warm cocoon, I trip over a box that we had yet to unpack from the move. Now limping, I start to walk towards the laundry room. The sooner I get clean clothing, the sooner I can get back to my room and barricade myself away from my roommates. Izzie follows me through the house, it's as if the universe has a vendetta against me being well rested.

"I have more clothes, I should have the bigger room," Izzie argues.

We pass George who is blockading his room with his body. He snaps, "I got here first."

They bicker as they follow me down the stairs and across the house. I decide to ignore them as the suggest unpacking and making the home more homey. It's too early for this. If I had it my way the house would just be me and Derek. But for some reason he got it in his mind that roommates would be an exciting change due to the fact that we've always lived on our own. I think he might have brain damage, to even suggest filling the house with other people. Sure the house was big and filled with bad memories, but at least it was quiet. Once I have my clothes for the day, I make my way back upstairs with my roommates still stalking me.

At the end of the hallway, I slip into my room and slam the door in Izzie's face. A moment later I open the door again, grab the mug of coffee Izzie has been holding, and then slam the barrier between my roommates' and myself closed again. Derek jolts awake from the two loud slams and looks around blearily. Nobody at the hospital would believe me if I told them McDreamy always woke up with the worst bed head I have ever seen, not to mention his halitosis. "Wha's goin on?" He mumbles, not yet fully cognizant.

I slide against the door to the ground and sigh, "You just had to want roommates."

After what felt like an eternity, Izzie and George left for the hospital together, leaving Derek and I alone in the house. Awake before him, I am already prepared to leave as he's just climbing into the shower. As he enters the bathroom, he turns to me and quirks his eyebrows. His towel is laying low on his waist, dangerously low. He offers for me to join him and for a long moment I consider it. Then my third alarm for the morning starts blaring from our bedroom and I remember that because of him I'm running late. Ignoring Derek's offer for shower sex, I push him into the bathroom, telling him he has ten minutes before I leave him behind as I go to work.

Half an hour later, we're walking towards the hospital hand in hand. Derek had to use a lot of kissing to convince me, but I agreed to join him at the coffee place down the street from the hospital instead of eating breakfast at home. We're at the corner, two blocks from the hospital, when I drop his hand quickly, as if I were suddenly burnt. He looks at me confused before I cock my head towards Miranda Bailey, my resident and Derek's coworker, standing mere feet from us.

"Ah," Derek says, as realization dawns over him. Smiling, he walks towards Bailey and I groan as I follow him, "Morning Dr. Bailey," Derek says with a smile before taking a large gulp of his coffee.

I'm about to add a greeting when Bailey lifts her hand and orders, "Shut up."

With mock offense but real confusion, Derek asks, "You realize that I'm an attending and you're only a resident? So you work for me, right?" I giggle a little before taking a sip of my own coffee, hoping Bailey didn't notice I laughed at her and get mad at me. My enjoyment seems to go straight over Bailey's head as she keeps looking around as if the thought she lost would just walk around the corner and remind her what she was thinking.

Mostly talking to herself Bailey continues, "I know I've forgotten something, something is happening today, I know I should know what it is, but I just can't," she shakes her head as she lets her sentence hang in the air unfinished.

"Alright," Derek says, clearly done with the conversation, "Nice talking to you Dr. Bailey," He starts to cross the street and directs his attention to me, smiling a little, "Dr. Grey, you'll talk to me right?"

I start to reply when all of a sudden Derek is grabbing me and dragging me back onto the sidewalk. My coffee goes plummeting to the ground and I grab onto Derek's collar to steady myself. Bikers are everywhere, crashing into trees, fire hydrants, and each other. Behind us, a biker wipes out on the sidewalk. As the onslaught continues, I remain in Derek's arms, despite the fact that Bailey is next to us. Everything is chaos as people go flying by and ramming into every and any obstacle. It takes about three minutes for the majority of the bikers to pass and for me to final remove myself from Derek's arms. Bailey gives us a strange look as she mumbles something about dead babies.

"What the hell just happened?" I ask her, as the three of us start to cross the now relatively bikerless street.

Once we're in the hospital I learn that the biker anarchy in the streets is because of something called the Dead Baby Bike Race. Some bar in the city holds an underground race every year. It's dangerous and sometimes deadly, which Derek and I experienced first person this morning after he thought it was a good idea to go out and get coffee. I don't care if we can't hold hands, from now on morning coffee is always coming from the hospital coffee cart, where I know I won't be killed by lunatics in the streets. On the bright side, those lunatics are supposed to lead to fantastic surgeries. While I don't understand the bike race, I'm looking forward to an exciting day at work. With the bike race, us interns have our first big trauma coming in and I'm pumped, I'm monumentally pumped.

Walking into the pit is incredible. It's the first time I've seen every bed full. There's so much happening and I can feel adrenaline starting to flow.

Cristina puts it perfectly when she celebrates, "Oh, it's like candy, but with blood, which is so much better." And just like that we scatter, each of us looking for the coolest injury. Despite the fact that Bailey warned us not to fight over patients, we all argue anyways. Everything's a competition right now and I'm planning on winning. Scanning the ER, my eyes fall in a bored looking biker with nails sticking out of his side.

My eyes go wide and I decide, "Ooh. I'll take that guy." In the spirit of competition, Alex also wants my patient. Despite the fact that the nails could be puncturing any number of organs, Alex just rips them out without even performing an x-ray or ultrasound. He has to be out of his mind. As soon as the nails are out, Alex walks away, as if he saved the day.

Viper, the patient, is adamant that I don't take him for tests. Instead, I'm left to suture his wounds. As I work, I repeatedly let him know that he needs a more thorough examination.

"Ah, you got a nice touch," He flirts, "And by the way, you are a rocking babe."

Looking up at him, I smirk, "Seriously, do you actually think you have a shot here?" The idiot goes and gets himself impaled and then thinks he can win over his doctor. What an idiot. That seems to be a trend among men in this hospital, being an idiot. First Derek with wanting the roommates, then Alex and the pulling out nails, and now Viper with the flirting with his doctor. Finished with the sutures, I urge Viper to at least have one CT, and being an idiot like all the men in SGH, he just wants to finish his race.

He keeps flirting with me and my mind flashes to Derek this morning with his towel nearly falling off his hips, "What is it with you guys and your need to dirty everything up?" I give him the AMA forms to sign, after trying to convince him to get a test one last time. He's almost out the door when he spins around and grabs me. I don't have time to react before he's kissing me. After a second of initial shock, I push him away. I'm too stunned to do anything. It's been years since anybody other than Derek has kissed me and this kiss, being so unexpected, has left me frozen in place.

"Don't worry, darling," He promises as he saunters out, "You'll see me again."

I call after him, "For your sake, I hope not." Huffing angrily, I rip off my gloves before wiping at my mouth. I did not need that. I did not want that. What is it with men and being idiots. After a moment, I got to clear the bedding for the trauma room so the next patient has a sterile surface. I'm working for a moment before I look up and see Derek through the window, hands on his hips.

"Shit," I hiss, as he moves to come in. I keep working until he opens the door. Looking at him, I say casually, "What do you want?"

Still in the doorway, Derek asks, "You make out with patients now? You won't kiss me in the hospital but you make out with patients?"

From the look in his eyes I know he's joking. If he saw the kiss that means he saw my reaction and he knows I was absolutely against it. He's just using this to push my buttons, to try to get me to allow our marriage to exist in the walls of the hospital. "What," I say, "Are you jealous?"

"I don't get jealous," He says defensively, closing the door behind him. Involuntarily, I snort. That is a load of crap. Derek Shepherd gets jealous all the time. He's my husband, I love him desperately, but he is a very jealous man.

Going to finish Viper's AMA, I shrug, "You agreed, not in the hospital."

"We kissed in the elevator," Derek argues.

I glare at him, "We kissed in the elevator, once." I emphasize the once because my plan is for it to never happen again.

"No, seriously," Derek practically begs, "Just tell people. I mean come on, we're married."

"No."

Changing tactics, Derek lowers his shoulders in an stance I assume is supposed to look vulnerable. "You know, I almost died today," He tells me, "Yeah, I came like this close," He holds his hands close together as if that's the exact distance he was between here and the beyond, "How would you feel if I died? And you didn't get a chance to sleep with me in an on-call room?"

I roll my eyes, "That's what this is about?"

"Come on," He pleads.

"You're ridiculous," I say, "You know that, right?"

He slides his hands in his pockets and he smiles his stupid McDreamy smile, "You're the one who married me, I think that makes you ridiculous too."

Putting down the forms I had been filling out I glare at him. "This is a game to you," I say seriously, "But not to me. I love you, but I can't do this in here. I need to be my own doctor first. I can't be Mrs. Shepherd in here. Because unlike you, I still have something to prove."

Finishing on that note, I leave the room. He turns slowly to watch me. I can feel his eyes on me but I keep walking forward. This would be so much easier if he stopped pushing it. I just need this to be secret for a little longer. I need to establish myself before everyone assumes that I'm here from riding on my husband's coat tails and not my own merit.


	12. Fools Like Me 2

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. A lot of the dialogue is direct from the show. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **A/N: Thank you all for the incredible reviews! They are such great motivation, but not only that, they just really make my day. I know you're all really anxious for the "Derek-is-my-husband" reveal but unfortunately you have to wait a little longer (but I promise you the wait is worth it, that part of the story might be my favorite writing I've ever done for a fanfic). Without further ado, here's the next part of** ** _Fools Like Me_** **.**

* * *

Apparently everyone is having a rough day. Izzie practically drags me into her patient's room rambling on about how he's crashing but she can't do anything. We aren't supposed to make the call whether or not a brain dead patient lives or dies but Izzie has a point. Izzie has a point and I have a point to prove. I need to be my own doctor. In that moment I decide that we're going to give this man the last twenty-seven minutes that we owe him. I move to get the dopamine, we're going to give this brain dead man a blood transfusion.

After the blood transfusion, Izzie and I slid to the ground, leaning against the wall in relief. He's stable and we've given him the time he still deserves. We're laughing together in relief when we get a page from Cristina to meet her in the stairwell, as she's on the move. Our relief is short lived when she tells us that the patient has a traumatic aortic injury. In only a few short moments it seems I've fallen down the rabbit hole. I just wanted to give the man a few more minutes but now Izzie is going on about surgeries and keeping him alive.

As Izzie goes to resume searching for his family, Cristina turns to me and says, "She's vice-president of fantasyland." And I have to agree, Izzie is convinced we can keep this man alive, despite that fact that he is brain dead.

Unfortunately, to get the surgery we need to go above Bailey's head, which is how I find myself opening the men's bathroom door to try to talk to Burke. When he realizes I'm trying to talk to him, I slip out of the room again, embarrassed. I can't believe I'm doing this.

"What the hell Meredith," Cristina asks when I shut the door.

"He's using the urinal Cristina," I reply, "I can't talk to him as he pees."

Cristina rolls her eyes at me, "Oh, you big baby." She pushes me to the side and takes my position at the door, opening it again to talk to Burke. When Burke asks a question that Cristina isn't sure how to answer, she closes the door again. We have a short whispered fight before we swing the door open and both stumble in a little. I tell Burke that we treated the patient on my orders. Anything that happens from this point out is now considered my fault. Just this morning I was saying how I wanted to make a name for myself but now I'm really regretting that. This is insane, honestly.

Burke looks at us like we're insane before smiling a little and asking, "You do enjoy crossing the line, don't you?"

Then, with some crude terms, Burke kicks us out of the bathroom.

* * *

With Burke not willing to help us, there's only one other attending we're comfortable to approach. I find Derek walking down the hall, his nose buried in a chart. Sliding up to him, as nonchalantly as possible, I smile a little.

He looks up from his chart and his eyes start to twinkle when he realizes that I'm the person who approached him, "Hey," He says.

I know that he's going to be insufferable after this, seeing as just this morning I was so adamant about not living under his shadow, "The brain dead patient?," I decide to just dive into my question instead of giving him an opening to make fun of the situation, "We want to perform surgery but Burke won't help us. What should we do?"

"Oh," Derek smirks as he realizes what I'm saying, "You're asking for my advice? I thought you wanted to be your own doctor."

"Now's not the time," I hiss, glancing out of the corner of my eye towards where Cristina and Izzie are watching. "This is important," I add, hoping he'll take it seriously.

Derek nods, "Okay. You want to get around Burke? You gotta find a way to get the Chief involved."

"Thanks," I say, smiling a little, "If we weren't in the hospital right now, I'd kiss you," I shrug and start to walk away, "I guess I'll just have to make it up to you at home." His hands are on his hips and he's shaking his head, amused at me. Before leaving, I flash him a quick wink over my shoulder and I hear a slight chuckle in response.

It dawns on me moments later on how to get the Chief, not only involved, but to support our surgery. Looking like a girl gang in scrubs, Izzie, Cristina, and I, corner George. If our guy is a match with George's guy, the Chief's VIP patient, then we are almost guaranteed the Chief to back the heart surgery. In an instant, all of the color drains from George's face when we ask him to go over Burke's head and straight to the Chief.

* * *

Alex Karev might just be the most despicable person I have ever met. My day started with him ruining it and right now, with him rubbing in the fact that he performed John Doe's surgery, it is ending with him ruining it. All I want to do is go home and sleep. It's been a long and exhausting day filled with idiot bikers and asshole attendings, as well as an annoying husband. On top of that, when I finally came to change I had two missed calls from my mother's nursing home, plus a voicemail. Today she was, in true Ellis fashion, being a pain in everyone's ass.

The last thing I need is Karev to be rubbing himself all over me, bragging about how good he supposedly smells. Him nuzzling my hair is the final straw and I grab him by his scrub top, slamming him against a locker.

"You have gotta be kidding me," I yell at him, "Okay. I have more important things to deal with than you. I have roommates, and husband problems, and family problems," He yawns as I scream at him and I'm tempted to break his nose, "You want to act like a little frat boy bitch, that's fine. You want to take credit for your saves, and everybody else's? That's fine too. Just stay out of my face. And for the record," He isn't looking at me and I'm so angry that I won't allow that. I grab his face, squeezing it hard and forcing him to meet my eyes, "You smell like crap."

Letting go of his face, I turn to see Derek standing in the doorway, looking confused and worried. I ignore him and walk to my locker, rubbing the bridge of my nose. The headache that I can feel growing is going to be terrible by the time I get home.

"She attacked me," Alex says. I spin around to see Derek further into the room and Alex pointing at me. Without thinking I storm towards Alex. I'll show him what being attacked really is. I'm almost on him when Derek grabs me, saying my name multiple times as he tries to calm me down. I struggle against Derek's grip for a second before I let him lead me backwards, his hands on my upper arms, keeping me restrained. Once I drop my fists Derek turns around to address Karev.

"You know what," He warns, "You might want to leave. Before I change my mind and let her beat you to a pulp with her tiny ineffectual fists." He leads Alex out of the room as I stay by my locker, breathing heavily from the anger coursing through my bloodstream. Right before Derek slams the door in Alex's face, the asshole intern mimes emotional crying. I am so going to kill that douchebag one day. As if nothing happened, I start pulling out my bag and other things from my locker so that I can actually go home.

Derek turns to me and sighs. I look at him and our eyes meet. Usually, we can hold pretty intense conversations through eye contact but right now, I'm not entirely sure what he is trying to say. That's probably because I don't know what I'm trying to say either.

"What?" He asks me.

"Nothing," I say before turning away and grabbing my coat, "It's just," I don't even know what it is. Derek nods for me to continue but I'm not sure what I want to say so I just tell him, "Nothing." I quickly shut my locker and move toward the door. Derek moves to stop me, blocking my way out and grabbing my upper arms in the same way as before, only this time to comfort and not restrain.

"Do you want to talk?" He asks me.

I shake my head before burying myself in his arms. Derek sighs and tightens his grip on me. He leans against the door, essentially locking us in the room. We stay there for a few minutes, neither of us speaking. The only sound in the locker room is the soft huffs of our breath. I start to calm down and settle in his embrace. Closing my eyes as a breathe him in I decide that, at the very least, we can't hide our marriage at home. I need him. I can't hide it forever.

* * *

Despite my decision before leaving the hospital, when Derek and I walk into the house, I shove him upstairs as quickly as possible so that George and Izzie don't see him. I'm going to tell them who my husband is, and soon, but I can't let them find out from the two of us walking inside. I tell Derek that I'll meet him upstairs before I walk into the living room to see what Izzie and George are going through.

"Are those my mother's surgical tapes?" I'm positive that they are, but as I'm so shocked to see them I ask anyways.

Izzie tells me that she likes to nest. The thing is, I'm not a nesting person. I don't nest. As they keep going through the tapes, I grab the pictures that Izzie set up around the room, to put them back into storage.

Slamming the pictures back into a box I declare, "No. No. We're not watching my mother's surgery tapes, we're not unpacking boxes, and we're not having long conversations where we celebrate the moments of our lives. And use a coaster!"

As I storm out of the room George tells me that he ordered Chinese. Practically spitting fire, I scream, "I hate Chinese Food," and I march upstairs.

Opening the door to my bedroom, I find Derek relaxing on the bed, smirking a little. He clearly heard my rant. I warn him not to say anything. Instead, he pats the bed next to him and reminds me that I promised to thank him for his help with the John Doe. Relieved to just be with my husband and nobody else, I move to the bed to join him. We start just kissing slowly but soon he's pulling my sweater over my head and I'm laughing as he pushes me into the mattress.


	13. Fools Like Me 3

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. A lot of the dialogue is direct from the show. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **A/N: Thank you again for all the great reviews, they really warm my heart! This is the last part of episode 3! Enjoy!**

* * *

Derek and I wake not because of our alarm but because of a knock on our door. We're naked and tangled between each other and our blankets. He groans into his pillow as I pull a sheet from the bed, wrap myself in it, and go to answer the door. I open it an inch to find Izzie already dressed and holding a steaming mug.

"We made coffee," She says in a voice too chipper for the early morning, "In case you and your husband," She cuts herself off and puts a hand on her hip, "You know, it's a little weird that we don't even know his name. Are we ever going to meet him?" Izzie makes a move to open the door wider but I block it with my body, laughing nervously.

Adjusting the sheet around my body I reply, "Yeah, of course. You'll meet him. Umm, so, coffee?"

She nods, "Yeah and french toast if you and McHusband want any."

"McHusband?" I ask, confused.

"Well we don't know his name and we need something to call him."

By the time I'm done speaking with Izzie, Derek is already asleep again. To wake him, I whack him with my pillow. He startles and if looks could kill the glare he sends me would be my cause of death. I tell him to get up and let him know that I'll distract George and Izzie as he slips out the door. Climbing out of bed he groans and stumbles over to me, kissing me lightly.

Rubbing my arm soothingly, he says, "We need to tell them."

I nod and agree, "I'm working on it, okay?"

Sighing, he moves to pull his pants on and get ready for the day.

Once he's ready to leave, I slip into the kitchen and close the door behind me giving Derek ample time to leave through the front door. Izzie and George are both in the kitchen, happy and eating Izzie's five star continental breakfast.

"Maybe the two of you should learn to keep it down," Izzie suggest as she looks at me and laughs harder, "And you know, Mer, I might not know what McHusband's face looks like but his ass…"

I groan and bury my face in my hands. The conversation over breakfast haunts me the entire drive to work. George and Izzie kept going on and on about meeting my husband, how loud my sex was last night, and cleaning the house. Their voices seem to be stuck in my head buzzing around and driving me insane. When I reach the hospital and Cristina is there, climbing off of her motorcycle, I feel immense relief. She is just as cynical as I am and if anybody will feel sympathy for my roommate issues, it is Cristina Yang.

Walking inside together, I rant about George, Izzie, and Derek. As much as I wish I could kick out my new roommates, the fact is they just moved in and Derek thinks they're a good idea, so my hands are tied. Maybe I'll just switch all of the locks and not tell anybody, not even Derek. Then the house would be just mine. That sounds appealing. Everybody in my house is happy all the time. I don't think my house has ever seen one person happy, let alone every room filled with bright and shiny people.

Cristina asks me when my rant is done, "So what, you're just going to repress everything into some deep dark twisted place until one day you snap and kill them?"

"Yep," I confirm, as we turn the corner to enter the hospital.

Smiling a little Cristina gestures towards me and declares, "This is why we're friends."

* * *

All of Bailey's interns are assigned to the pit again today to catch any stragglers from yesterday's chaos. I've already been through three different bikers when I glance out towards the waiting room and spot my patient from yesterday, the arrogant son of a bitch who kissed me, Viper, sitting in a chair and looking sickly. He's clutching his side, right where the nails had been, and every few seconds he grimaces. I ask Alex what Viper is doing here and he just brushes it off, claiming that there was probably another bike crash.

Viper starts having a coughing fit as I approach him and he doesn't respond as I call his name. I know something is seriously wrong as soon as he moves to stand up. His motion is shaky and jilted. I'm only feet away from him when he coughs up a mouthful of blood and collapses. Immediately, I drop down to my knees at his side. I lift up his shirt, ready to triage him, when I feel my heart stop. His stitches are ripped open and there's blood covering the wound. The area where the nails were has swelled to the size of a small melon and there is so much blood underneath the skin that I can see it move with each heartbeat.

Springing into action I call for a gurney and for nurses. Once we have Viper laying on a gurney, I climb on top of him to hold the wound closed. Any movement could open it more and cause the wound to burst and for him to bleed out. I'm applying as much pressure as possible and I order for an OR to be prepped. Alex is staring at everything in a daze. I bet he's feeling pretty guilty right about now after passing off Viper's injuries as nothing yesterday. It takes me yelling at him to get Alex to start moving the gurney to the elevators and to knock some sense into him.

Never in my life has an elevator ride felt so slow. I beg for it to move faster as I grasp at Viper's wound. It's only a matter of time before it opens, I'm really not sure how much longer I can keep it closed. I'm rolled straight into the OR, still sitting on Viper to keep the wound closed. Bailey orders me to scrub in as she begins to inspect Viper's wound. From the scrub room I can hear her scolding Karev for only wanting the cool cases and telling him to get back to the pit. Part of me is a little proud, that asshole deserved to be set in his place. He is part of the reason Viper is in the OR right now, he's definitely part of the reason why Viper's condition became this critical.

It's an exciting surgery, I have to admit. There were two scares where his heart stopped but both times we were able to get him back. It was the most blood I had ever seen in a surgery and, just like my first time in the OR with Katie Bryce, it felt like a high for me. Part of me can understand why Viper participated in the bike race, if it makes him feel half as good as I feel holding a retractor in his surgery, I would do it, too. When we're done with the surgery, Bailey yells at all of Viper's friends. I've never seen her speak to a patient or a patient's loved ones like this. She's made, understandably so, because this entire surgery could have been prevented if the group of them weren't idiots.

I'm left to tell Viper's friends, "He's gonna live," After Bailey storms off, still ranting under her breath.

* * *

After leading Viper's friends to his room, I'm left with about forty-five minutes of post-op rounds and charting. By the time I reach the intern locker room I'm relieved to find it empty. If I had to deal with anybody right now I would probably blow up at them just like Bailey had done not even an hour before. I'm just finishing up putting my stuff in my bag and applying lotion to my hands when I hear the door to the locker room close. I glance up, hoping that it isn't Alex or my roommates or anybody else who would drive me crazy. A small smile forms when my eyes fall on Derek, already changed out of his scrubs as well.

"It's not a game," He says as he slips his hands into his back pockets.

Rubbing my hands together, I ask to clarify, "What?"

"You and me," He explains, "In the hospital. It's not a game," Derek starts walking towards me and I can feel my heart rate increase just from watching him, "It's that surgery you performed today, on that biker. I watched from the gallery and there was nothing that I wanted more than to be able to say "that's my wife" and let everybody know how proud I am of you. I know that you don't want to be under my shadow here but, god, Meredith if anything I'd be under yours." As he spoke he walked across the room to me. By the time he's finished there's barely inches between us and he's looking down at me with such intensity that I feel as if I'm falling love all over again.

A blush begins to warm my cheeks and I ask, "You think I'm that good? Really?"

He grins at me, "I think you're even better than that."

Smirking, I tell him, "I'm still not announcing it to the hospital."

"You say that now," He says as he starts to walk away.

I call after him, "But maybe, when we get home, I'll talk to George and Izzie."

His eyes widen at my comment, shock clear across his face. I know that Derek expected me to want to keep our marriage a secret at home longer but I just can't do it, I don't want to do it. I had decided yesterday that I needed to tell our roommates soon and now seems like that time. In two long steps Derek walks back over to me. He cups my cheeks in his palms before pressing a deep kiss to my forehead. Slowly, Derek backs away. We keep eye contact until he's at the door and has to turn around to leave.

I turn back to my bag to finish getting ready to leave, my hair falling into my face and obscuring the blush that is still spread across my face. Delicately, I bite my bottom lip. Sometimes I can't believe I was so lucky to meet a guy like him.

* * *

Just like the night before, Derek and I walk into the house together. The difference is, tonight instead of sending him upstairs, we walk into the living room, holding hands. George and Izzie are laying across a couch while Cristina is curled in one of the old arm chairs. One of my mother's surgical tapes is on and I can't find it in me to be angry.

When they notice me, George and Izzie seem to panic. Since they were expecting me to react the way I did last night to the surgical tapes, neither of them noticed Derek at first. Cristina takes a long sip from her beer as she looks at me, smirking. I know right away that she's looking forward to the show she's about to see with the big McDreamy is my husband reveal.

George goes to turn off the video stuttering, "We were-"

Whatever excuse he was going to have for watching the tapes is lost when Izzie gasps, "What the hell?" She's glaring at Derek and I, specifically at our joint hands. George's jaw drops when he realizes who I'm with.

Still staring at Derek and I in shock, Izzie repeats, this time angrily, "Mer, what the hell?"

* * *

 _There's another way to survive this competition. A way that no one ever seems to tell you about. It's not about the race at all. There are no winners or losers. Victories are counted by the number of lives saved. And once in awhile, if you're smart, the life you save could be your own._

* * *

 **A/N: So I think this qualifies as a cliff hanger? If so it's my first so yay for that. There might be a little longer wait for the next few chapters because even though they're done, I don't want to start posting them until I've finished writing episode 5 (which has been a bit of a main to write tbh). Looking forward to your reviews, let me know what you all think!**


	14. Where Does the Good Go 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **A/N: I'm going to be really honest, I'm very excited for you guys to start reading this chapter/episode re-write. The first part, specifically. Not only am I proud of how I did the characterization, which is something I don't feel that often, but you guys finally learn how Meredith and Derek met. I've read a lot of different "married before SGH" fanfics, but I don't think I've once seen a version where they met this way, and I really like what I came up with. If you'd like to, take the time to review, I'd love to hear what you all think about a section that I take a lot of pride in. Plus, this series of chapters,** ** _Where Does the Good Go_** **is my longest group yet!**

 **Additionally, I'm currently half-way through an angsty future AU fic (AU because Derek is alive because I will always write fics where he is alive okay) so stay tuned for that, it will probably posted sometime this week. It's a three parter about a subject I have literally no knowledge on, but I like the fic so whatever.**

 **One last little thing, basically today marks the start of finals week for me (yay and by yay I mean I'm going to die) so while I will keep writing while I procrastinate on essays, this is the last update for a bit, I just wanted to get y'all off that cliff)**

* * *

 _Look me in the eye and tell me you don't find me attractive  
Look me in the heart and tell me you won't go  
Look me in the eye and promise no love's like our love  
Look me in the heart and unbreak broken, it won't happen  
_Where Does the Good Go? - **Tegan and Sara**

* * *

 _Intimacy is a four-syllable word for, "Here are my heart and soul, please grind them into hamburger and enjoy." It's both desired and feared, difficult to live with, and impossible to live without. Intimacy also comes attached to life's three R's: Relatives, romance and roommates. There are some things you can't escape. And other things you just don't want to know._

* * *

A tense silence fills the room as my roommates process the fact that our boss is standing in our living room holding my hand. George keeps opening and closing his mouth, like a fish struggling to breathe out of water. In the arm chair across from him Cristina relaxes and takes a long sip from her bottle of beer, smirking as she watches our friends learn that my husband is Derek Shepherd. I'm holding my breath, waiting for someone to say something. Derek feels me tense up and gives the hand he is clutching a quick but reassuring squeeze, letting me know he is in this crap with me. Nervously, I glance between George and Izzie, trying to gage their reactions. For the most part, George seems shocked and confused, maybe a little hurt by the fact that his crush on me will most definitely not be reciprocated. It's Izzie's reaction that has me worried. She's glaring at me as if I'm a pariah.

The silence is broken by Izzie slamming the bottle she had been holding onto the coffee table, angrily. "I can't believe this," She says with venom towards me, as she storms out of the room and into the kitchen. Derek makes a move to talk to her but I grab his upper arm and stop him. I ask him to explain the situation to George, the fact that we're married but we didn't want it to complicate our work life, as I go do the same to Izzie.

Cautiously, I enter the kitchen. Izzie's anger seems to radiate off of her in waves, I can feel it from the doorway as she stands clear across the room obsessively washing dishes. I've known her long enough now to know that she copes through cleaning, a relatively good quality in a roommate.

"Iz," say her name as if it is a question as I slip into the room. She doesn't turn around but she slams the plate she had been washing back down into the sink. Making her stance more aggressive, she places her hands down on either side of the counter and pushes her weight into them.

She hunches into her shoulders and huffs, "This is unbelievable, Meredith."

Stepping further into the room, I reach out a hand towards Izzie and plead, "Let me explain."

"Explain?" Izzie scoffs as she spins around to glare at me, "What is there to explain? You're cheating on your husband with our boss! You're throwing away your marriage! For what? A few good surgeries?"

I stop dead in my tracks, my mouth hanging open in shock. It takes a moment to process Izzie's words but before I know it I'm giggling. Izzie's still staring me down and her rage pushes me into full out laughter. It's absolutely hilarious to me. Somehow, with Derek and I walking into the house, Izzie assumed that I was cheating on my husband rather than the fact that is Derek the person I married.

"Stop laughing," Izzie says, annoyance mixing with her anger, "This isn't funny."

"I'm sorry," I say as I try to compose myself. Sucking in a few deep breaths I manage to stop hysterics. I wipe away a stray tear from my eye that had fallen due to intensity of my laughter, "It's not," I pause for another deep breath, "It's not what you think."

Izzie argues with me, "No. It's exactly what I think. You went to Dartmouth. Your mother is Ellis Grey. You grew up... Look at his house! You know, you walk into the OR, and there isn't anyone who doubts that you should be there. I grew up in a trailer park. I went to state school. I put myself through med school by posing in my underwear. You know, I walk into the OR, and everyone hopes I'm the nurse. And you have a husband. A great husband, a hot husband, I assume judging from the sex sounds that kept me up the other night and you are throwing it all away, Meredith. All of it!"

"It's not about the surgeries, Iz. It's not about getting ahead," I move across the room and take a seat on one of the bar stools, holding my head up with a hand, "He's the hot husband, Iz. McDreamy is McHusband."

"Oh my god," Izzie says, her eyes going wide as she realizes, "I'm an idiot." She leans against the refrigerator and slides slowly to the ground before asking, "Really? Shepherd's your husband."

I chuckle, "Yeah, he is."

Her head shoots up and she looks at me as if just through sight she'll know the truth. She asks, "How long? I mean, you didn't marry him to get in the program, did you?"

Shaking my head, I climb off the bar stool and move around the kitchen island to sit beside Izzie on the ground. Once settled down, I explain how Derek and I met. Before I went to Dartmouth for undergrad, I had taken a gap year working as an EMT in New York City. I had picked New York over Boston because it meant I wouldn't be living with Ellis, but she wouldn't let me go any further than New York. I got the job because I had taken EMT classes throughout high school, I even worked as one during the weekends of my senior year. I had only been in New York for a week when my rig got a call for a motorcycle accident.

I remember the scene so vividly. Our rig pulled up at the corner to see a car crumbled against a pole, the driver unconscious with his head against the steering wheel and deflated airbag, a motorcycle, smashed against a fire hydrant that was now shooting water feet into the air and covering the a man bleeding beside it. Springing into action, I had ran towards the motorcyclist, he didn't have a helmet and there was a massive gash on his forehead. It was the most blood I had ever seen, he was pooled in it. Immediately I applied pressure to his wound and my fellow EMTs helped me move him onto a gurney. The drive to New York-Presbyterian Hospital was short and we treated the man through the entire trip. He had been unconscious the entire drive, up until we pulled up to the E.R. We were unloading him when he woke up and grabbed my hand. He could barely open his eyes due to the blood and wounds and he clung to me as if I was the only thing connecting him to planet Earth.

As we rolled him in, I asked his name and if he remembered what happened, to no response. Once in the E.R. the motorcyclist continued clutching my hand. Surgeons surrounded us and began questioning him. I tried to loosen his grip and back away so that the doctors could work, but he wouldn't let go. His voice scratchy, but filled with terror, the man begged, "Don't leave me." It was the first thing he had said since the crash.

Looking down at him, his expression was filled with pain and terror. Moving my free hand to his hair, I pushed it back and moved his dark curls away from the blood, "I won't," I promised him.

The rest of my team loaded back onto the ambulance after handing the motorcyclist off to the doctors, but I decided to stay. Through everything he had begged me to stay and if something went wrong during the surgery, I didn't want his last request to go unfulfilled. I waited the entire time he was in surgery, I even sat with his family. Four sisters and his mother showed up in a panic after the hospital called them. I explained the situation to them and kept them calm. His family told me all about him, he was actually a surgeon himself but worked in private practice. They told me all about Derek Shepherd and the more they said the more interested I became in him. After three hours, when the surgeons came out and updated his family, I felt relief to hear he was okay. His family asked me to join him in his patient room and when he woke up, mine was the first face he saw. A small smile spread on his face when his eyes fell on me. "You're real," He seemed to breathe me in as he stared at me, "I thought you were an angel."

Derek was in the hospital for a week after his accident. I visited him everyday after my shift. Despite our age difference, me being only nineteen and him being twenty-nine, Derek and I connected. I was with him as he signed his release forms from the hospital and as soon as his signature was down he looked up at me, asking me on a date. Reluctantly, I agreed, and as they say, the rest is history.

When I finish telling Izzie the story of how Derek and I met, she seems to be looking at me in a totally different way. Any anger has slipped away as I was speaking but now there is a sparkle in her eye that I can't recognize. "Damn it, you poor girl," she sighs,"You're all, uh, mushy and warm and full of secret feelings."

"I hate you," I reply as she wraps her arm through mine. She settles against me, and I'm relieved that any anger she had as dissipated. Smiling a little, I lay my head on her shoulder, my cheek pressed against her. For a while, Izzie and I sit together in comfortable silence. We only break apart when there's a light knock on the kitchen door. Looking up, we see Derek standing in the doorway. He tells me that he's heading up stairs for the night and gives Izzie a quick goodnight. Derek avoids making eye contact with Izzie, nervous after her outburst when we had arrived home earlier. Nodding, I decide I'll join him. Detaching myself from Izzie, I follow Derek upstairs.

As soon as our bedroom door closes behind us, we both sigh. Derek wraps his arms around me and buries my head against his chest. We're both quiet for a few seconds, thinking about the conversations we both had just experienced. Slowly, a warm chuckle starts to shake Derek's chest. Before we know it, both of us are in hysterics, falling onto our bed laughing. Despite Izzie's screaming and accusations, all in all the roommate reveal had been better than expected.

Rolling onto his back, Derek slows his laughter and says, "George told me not to hurt you," I shift onto my side so that our eyes meet, "I didn't have the heart to tell the poor kid it's a little too late in our relationship for him to adopt a protective big brother role, seeing as we're already married."

Propping myself up on my elbows, I ask, just to be sure, "But you did tell him we're married, right?"

"Oh," Derek feigns ignorance, "That's what we were supposed to be talking about?" In response I grab the nearest pillow and whack my husband with it. He retaliates by rolling over and trapping me in his arms as he tickles me. As we both resume our laughter from earlier, I know, not only did I make the right decision to tell our roommates about our marriage, but that there is no place I would rather be than in my husband's arms.


	15. Where Does the Good Go 2

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **A/N: Finals are kicking my ass but I've been relaxing through fanfic so that's score one for you guys. Earlier, while taking a break from an essay I actually finished writing the season one finale! With that in mind, I'm not sure whether I want to continue** ** _Into the Fire_** **with season two or have a different fic. Any ideas from y'all? I think I'm leaning to continuing in this fic. Also, thank you so much for all the great reviews, they always brighten my day.**

* * *

 _one week later_

* * *

Derek walks into our bedroom, still dripping wet from his shower. His towel is draped low across his hips, his dark curls plastered to his forehead, and if we had just an extra fifteen minutes I would be ripping off his towel. However, we're already both running late. Finishing to button my shirt, I ask him if the bathroom is free.

"We need to talk to our roommates about boundaries," He replies.

I move across the room to sit our bed. Pushing my bangs out of my face, I glance up at Derek as I pull on my boots and ask, "What do you mean?"

He pulls on his boxers before moving his towel to his hair and rubbing it down, "Well for starters," He answers, "I really don't need Izzie walking into the bathroom while I'm showering."

"She did not," I half laugh, half gasp.

"Oh, she definitely did."

Standing up, I make my way across the room so I can go downstairs and have breakfast. I smirk at Derek as I leave the room, "You're the one who wanted roommates, dear. You're problem, there." Because it's only four in the morning, after his shower, Derek climbs back into bed. Today he needs to be in the hospital early, but after his shower he's still trying to squeeze in an extra fifteen minutes of sleep. He likes to be awake, at least for a little while, in the morning with me before I head into work. I think it's charming, the fact that he's willing to lose half an hour of sleep just to say good morning. Albeit, it is cheesy. But Derek has always been cheesy. I would never tell him, but I love the cheese and romance. He makes me feel special, something I had never felt before meeting him.

It's become routine that George, Izzie, and I, drive to the hospital together. The three of us being interns with the same resident means, for the most part, our schedules match. Derek drives himself not only because of his day usually starts later than ours but because while my friends know about our marriage, nobody else in the hospital does. During the drive in, I learn that Izzie walking in on people in the shower is an epidemic. George won't stop complaining on how she had walked in, wearing just her underwear, to brush her teeth that morning. Turning up the volume on the radio, I tune them out. They're like bickering children and I'm not in the mood to listen to them feud. By the time I pull the car into the hospital parking lot, George is just short of full blown screaming.

"You don't understand. Me gonads, you ovaries," George snaps.

Her words dripping with bemusement, Izzie replies, "Oh, that reminds me. We are out of tampons." She closes the door behind her and starts walking into the hospital, casually sipping on her morning coffee.

"You're parading through the bathroom in your underwear when I'm naked in the shower," still complaining, George follows her.

Climbing out of the car, I mention to Izzie, "I have no problem with you walking in on George, but try to keep the walking in on my husband to a minimum."

"No problem," Izzie shrugs, she then continues to George, "Can you add it to your list, please?"

"What?" He asks.

"Tampons," Izzie repeats. George stops in his tracks, as if Izzie's request was as ludicrous as her asking him to kill a man.

Passing him, I explain, "To the list, it's your turn."

Asking him to buy tampons appears to be the straw that broke the camel's back, so to say. Finally caving into his anger, George yells. "I am a man! I don't buy girl products! I don't want you walking in while I'm in the shower, and I don't want to see you in your underwear."

Under my breath I say to Izzie, "Derek's a man and he buys tampons."

"Mmhm," hums in reply to me. She then turns to George and says, "It doesn't bother me, ok? Look at me in my underwear, George. Take your time. It's no big deal."

Again, George stops in his tracks. I turn and pat him lightly on the arm saying, "My husband's a man and he's fine with all of that," Before taking a few quick steps to catch up to Izzie.

* * *

Most mornings, Bailey likes to do a quick lesson on something. She paces the locker room and lectures every intern, not just her own, about some topic or another. The tone she uses is intimidating and it's a pretty good teaching tactic. We then spend the rest of the day thinking about whatever she spoke about, being more aware and honing our skills in that specific subject. Today as she walks through the locker room, Bailey is talking about bedside manner. Given the fact that pre-rounds are early today, Bailey's mini lesson perfectly to task. As we all scatter to finish checking all our patients before 5:30, we're leaving with bedside manner at the forefront of our minds.

Cristina is leaning against her locker, bragging about a surgery she's convinced she's going to get on. I'm a little peeved, my patients yesterday were not only boring but also high maintenance. I had to do dressing changes for two colostomy patients every fifteen minutes. It had been exhausting. Following Cristina out of the locker room, I beg her to tell me what she knows.

"No," Cristina replies, "I'm not the intern who's screwing an attending."

I start to argue that I'm not screwing Derek. Well I am screwing Derek. But we're married so the screwing is allowed, there is nothing immoral about me screwing Derek, even though he is an attending, because we've been screwing for eight years. I'm halfway out of the door when I nearly crash into Derek. He's holding two cups of coffee and thrusts one of them forward, handing it to me. After a quick glance around to see nobody would notice, I accept the coffee from Derek and start walking with him.

"You're here early," I point out.

"I have a chordotomy at 5:00,' He reminds me, "I'll be out at 6:00. I thought I might buy your breakfast before your rounds."

Shrugging, I tell him, "I've already eaten."

"What'd you have?" He asks, as he turns around. As we talk I continue walking down the hallway. Derek walks backwards so he can look at me when he speaks and despite my best efforts, I can't wipe the small smile I get from his antics off of my face.

"None of you business."

He rolls his eyes, "That means you ate the leftover pizza. You are the leftover pizza, right?" He laughs a little, "That was supposed to be dinner tonight, if you ate the pizza that means you need to make dinner which mean we're going to need a new house because I know for a fact you cannot cook."

"Fine," I confess what I ate to get him to stop, "leftover grilled cheese. Curiosity satisfied?"

Derek spins on his heels so he's no longer walking backwards but now at my side, "That's sad, Mer. That's from like last week. It's pathetic. A good day starts with a good breakfast."

"Derek, you need to stop," I half beg, half demand, "Look, I'm not being seen with you in this hospital. Learn it, live it. It's unprofessional."

Still pushing for us to be open about our marriage in the hospital, Derek suggests, "Think of it as an attending getting to know one of his interns."

"He's married to the intern," I reply.

"Barely knew her," Derek deadpans.

Rolling my eyes, I say, "And it should stay that way in the hospital." One day, we will be open about our marriage in the hospital. And I understand why Derek wants to be open about it now, but the thing is I'm not ready. I'm not established yet. People still think I'm only in the program because of my mother. I can't have them thinking I'm here because of my husband, too. Part of me knows most of Derek's pushing is a joke, but it still rubs me the wrong way. His pushing could blow our secret wide open and I'm not ready for people to know.

Just feet away from one of the nurses' stations, Derek stops our walking. "You want me to be professional? I'll be professional," Derek decides.

"That's what I want," I nod.

"Then that's what you'll get," He says, his tone his grave but there's still a happy sparkle in his eye.

"You're going to be late for your chordotomy," I point out.

Glancing at his watch, Derek realizes that I'm right. Lifting his head up and trying to hide his smile under a faux-serious expression, Derek says loudly and in a terrible British accent, "Nice talking to you, Dr. Grey." Watching him retreat, I chuckle a little and shake my head. He drives me insane, he's pushy, he's stubborn, but I really do love him.

* * *

I'm already exhausted and the day has only just begun. George, desperate to get me to agree with him and say that Izzie is being inappropriate, follows me complaining through all of pre-rounds. He thinks that there should be rules, which I find hilarious. There aren't going to be rules. He's clearly never lived with roommates if he thinks any established rules would be followed. My only qualm with Izzie being so exposed is her doing so around Derek. Not that I worry that either of them are interested in each other, I just have a jealous streak and a half dressed former model walking in while my husband is in the shower triggers said streak.

Through our conversation, I managed to push enough of George's buttons to get him to stammer. When he says that Izzie isn't the one he's interested in, I know the one he is thinking about is me. Poor kid, really. He doesn't have any semblance of a chance. George wouldn't have a chance with me even if I wasn't married to Derek. He knows that there's no chance of ever being with me, which I think is one of the reasons why he's so flustered when I mentioned having a crush. I'm mid laugh when Bailey tells us to grab Karev and go to the pit for a trauma with Derek.

"Shepherd's in surgery," I tell Bailey, knowing full well that he had a chordotomy scheduled to start fifteen minutes ago.

Bailey shakes her head, "He got pulled before he could start."

Luckily, George and I find Alex easily. He had been by the vending machine, flirting some red haired and giggly nurse up. We enter the trauma room together and I'm so mesmerized by the patient's injuries that I don't even greet Derek. Knowing I might be stating the obvious I say, "Those look like…" I trail my sentence off, knowing everybody sees the same thing that I am seeing.

Glancing up from the patient's skull, Derek confirms my suspicions, "Nails. Yes."

Laying on the table in the trauma room is a man with seven nails embedded through his skull and into his brain. I spare a glance at the x-ray of his injuries and I'm intrigued. I've never seen anything like this, even through all of the surgeries I've heard of from Derek and my mother, before him. Staring at the patient, I'm shocked to see he's even still breathing with multiple nails full penetrating his head. Around the patient, nurses move around tending to him. Derek sits by his head, cleaning the wounds and assessing the injuries. Throwing me off guard, the patient lifts his hands to his face and moans that he can't see them.

George gasps, "Oh my God! He's conscious."

"But blind," Derek adds.

Alex makes a mocking comment to George, but I'm still too fascinated by the injuries to spare a thought to them. Derek orders four mgs of morphine as well as titrate. Everyone moves around the patient as if it a choreographed dance except, because of Derek's orders for the patient not to move, the lead is not participating in the performance. The patient seems to be becoming more anxious as he panics over his loss of sight.

I lean over the patient and assure him, "It's ok. We need you to be very still, Mr," I don't finish my sentence as, during the time spent in the trauma room, I have yet to learn the patient's name. One of the ER attendings tells me his name, Jorge Cruz, and that the poor man received his injuries by falling down the stairs while holding a nail gun. Derek goes about checking Mr. Cruz for responsiveness. Aside from the optic injury, there's also numbness on his right side and he doesn't react to Derek's touches. As he works, Derek asks questions. He's always in control, managing to teach and heal at the same time. CT is down and so we have to resort to other measures to get scans. While George and Alex are sent to research similar cases, I stay with the patient.

"Stay with him," Derek instructs, "You're good at keeping confused patients calm," I haven't had to deal with any patient in a state like this as an intern and part of me wonders if Derek is thinking about how I kept him calm after his accident, "And I need you to do just that. Look for changes, page me if you see anything. I remind the patient that his wife is on the way but he's still repeating the terrifying fact that he can't see. Without thinking, I take his hand. The simple contact calms him down and I tell him again that his wife will be here soon.


	16. Where Does the Good Go 3

**Disclaimer: Nothing recognizable is mine. No copyright infringement intended.**

 **A/N: I just realized that I probably don't _ever_ post updates at a good time but whatever it's Passover and I'm craving carbs and it's finals and I'm caving the sweet release of oblivion so I'm going to post a chapter before going to bed. Just an update on how writing is going for future chapters: Season 2 has started being written and oh boy does the plot deviate. But I really think y'all are gonna enjoy it.**

* * *

Despite the nails in his head, Jorge is able to joke. I am concerned though, when he mentions the fact that before his accident with the nail gun he's been having headaches. He seems like a nice man and I really hope that we can help him.

"Baby," A woman calls from the door. I turn to see Derek and a woman I can only assume is Sona, Jorge's wife. Stepping back from the bed, I move to give Sona room next to her husband and join my own in the doorframe. Many patients or their families try to lighten the situation, which Sona attempts when she jokes that Jorge is in trouble. Derek puts his arm around me and gives my arm a shoulder a quick squeeze before telling me to get a medical history. He whispers a soft thank you as he walks away. Now alone in the doorway, I watch as Jorge kisses his wife's hand. Part of me can't help but picture what it would be like if this were Derek and myself. The very thought of Derek blind and injured in a hospital bed terrifies me.

After a few minutes, I ask Sona to come with me. We move a few feet from Jorge's room and I ask her questions for his medical history. The entire time we talk there are tears threatening to spill from the corners of her eyes.

She asks me if he'll be able to see again and I give the honest answer, "We won't know until the nails come out." The tears become more prominent and she seems closer to crying as she starts to talk about how Jorge is a photographer. If I didn't need more information on Jorge, I would have let her continue, but I need to know more. I cut Sona off and ask about her husband's headaches. He's been dizzy and disoriented because of the headaches. Marking down the symptoms and amount of time he's been having headaches in his chart, I wonder if something caused him to fall down the stairs. Perfectly healthy people don't usually go tripping over nothing while holding nail guns.

* * *

Before Jorge's surgery, I wait for Derek in the scrub room. Once he's joins me I start talking a mile a minute about Jorge's headaches and how there's something wrong. Despite the severity of our conversation, I smile a little under my mask at Derek's scrub cap. It's another cap I bought him. I gave it to him wrapped up in layers and layers of tissue paper. He had been confused when he opened it but I explained that with the combination of his love for ferry boats and the fact that I had just been accepted into the Seattle Grace Hospital surgical residency program that it was an appropriate gift. As soon as the words were out of my mouth he had swept me up into a hug. I loved that ferry boat scrub cap and so did he, it was the moment I gave it to him that we knew we were moving out here and leaving Boston behind.

"Just because you hear hoof beats, don't assume zebras," Derek says as he enters the OR, his arms raised in front of him to keep them sterile.

"Something caused him to lose consciousness and fall down the stairs. He could have a tumor," I argue.

"Look," Derek reasons with me as I follow after him, "I have no idea why this guy's still alive, let alone moving and talking. Not a clue. Let's just get him through this before we start digging around for something else," Annoyed a roll my eyes at him, but he catches it. Once his surgical gown is on he promises, "If Mr. Cruz makes it through this, we can look into your theory."

Raising my hands in surrender I agree, "That's all I'm asking for." From there, Derek transitions into surgeon mode. A scrub nurse holds the OR phone to his ear and I'm able to listen in on half of his conversation with Karev, talking about similar cases.

"Other words, I'm on my own," Derek says as his gloves are pulled on and he moves to the operating table. I step up behind him, a little excited to watch such a rare operation. After a short conversation with Jorge, Derek moves to the side ot the OR to talk with his scrub nurses about procedure and what he's going to need. I remain at Jorge's side, talking to him. He tells me about his wife's fondness of the color red and I can't help but smile. Derek moves to stand at Jorge's head, almost ready to start the procedure. Our eyes meet and he sighs a little. We're both thinking the same thing, that we'd like Jorge to see red again, but more importantly we'd like him to live. As the anesthesiologist puts Jorge under, Derek and I keep eye contact. Seeing the love Jorge and Sona have for eachother, part of me can't stop picturing Derek and I in the same scenario. I wonder if he's thinking the same thing.

Taking a scalpel in hand, Derek moves to make the first incision. He's about to cut when he winks at me and announces his famous line to the OR, "It's a beautiful day to save lives."

* * *

Pulling up to the nursing home, I turn to Derek and declare, "No work talk tonight."

He nods before climbing out of the car. His hand finds mine as we walk inside and he agrees, "No work talk."

I'm exhausted, everyday as an intern feels long but there was something about today that seemed to drain the life from me. Part of it is definitely the reflection of myself and Derek that I saw in Jorge and Sona. Nothing leaves a surgeon more off balance than seeing themselves in their patients. All day I couldn't help picturing how I would react if it was Derek in that hospital bed with a rare injury and a fleet of surgeons not sure what to expect.

Adding to the sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach that came from imagining my husband in a hospital bed, I also had to spend more time today thinking about my mother than I like to when in the hospital. Her old scrub nurse, Liz, was admitted with an abdominal mass consistent with pancreatic cancer. With Derek at my side, I took time to visit her room before leaving for the night. Liz compared me to my mother, something that I'm used to but all the same something that makes me uncomfortable. When she asked about what my mother is doing I told my usual lie that the great Ellis Grey is taking a break from surgery to travel. I'm honestly surprised that anybody who knows my mother believes this. Liz, though, seemed skeptical by my explanation and that alone proves the fact that she truly knew the workaholic and terrible parent that my mother was when she was in her prime.

Lying to people about my mother's condition is hard, especially when they know her, but the thing is that it's what she wants. My mother has already lost so much, she's essentially lost herself, that I have to respect her wish to keep the Alzheimer's a secret. I've let her down so much and I have to do this one thing for her, even if it's wearing me down. It does help having Derek by my side. At least he knows. I'm lucky to have him to confide in. I'm lucky to have him to join me when I visit my mom. I don't know how I would do any of this if he didn't know, if I didn't have him.

I'm quiet as we enter Roseridge. Derek places a reassuring hand at the small of my back as he leads me to the sitting room where my mother almost always is. He nods to the nurses as we walk by but my only focus is getting in and getting out. It always hurts to admit it but I only visit my mother out of obligation. Our relationship has always been strained, never loving like that of a mother and daughter should be, and so I visit her because it's my duty, because nobody else will, not because I love her. It isn't that I don't love her. I love my mother in some strange warped way that I have never been able to explain but the fact is, our relationship isn't what it should be. When Derek says he loves his mother he means it. When I say I love my mother, I'm not sure what I mean.

We find my mother standing near the fireplace, watching the flames flicker with a far away look in her eyes. The distant look has become her normal, the more her eyes glaze over, the farther away she is. Not sure how to spend the time today, I decide to go through pictures that my mother has with her. It's a photo album that I put together when she was first diagnosed. Just old pictures that I'm sure she never looked at before her memory started to fade but that she became engrossed in as she struggled to keep any semblance of herself. Derek stands by my side as I flip through the pages, presenting each picture to my mother.

My mother stops me at a picture of my family, from before Thatcher left. It's actually a picture taken in the backyard of the Seattle house, the home Derek and I will be returning to when we're finished with our visit for the night.

"Who is that," My mother asks, pointing at Thatcher. In the picture I'm probably around three or four and I'm perched in a little red wagon that Thatcher is pulling. If I didn't know what was to happen to that small family in the years to come, for the father to leave and a frantic move across the country, the picture would be perfect. Instead, looking at it leaves me with a bitter taste in my mouth because it's presents a false idea of my family. It looks like my parents cared, which neither of them ever did. My mother's eyes leave the page and focus in on Derek's face, she points at the picture and asks him, "Is that you?"

Gently, I shake my head, "That's dad," I remind mom, placing my finger next to hers pointing at my father.

"Who?"

"Your husband," I say, "Thatcher Grey. You called him Thatch."

My mother repeats his name, the word sounding foreign on her tongue. Derek places a hand on my shoulder and gives it a soft squeeze, letting me know that he's there for me. I sigh, studying the lost expression on my mother's face. Sometimes, after looking at pictures, she has a moment of recognition. It's been awhile since that has happened. I explain the picture to my mother, hoping to jog her memory but nothing seems to connect. Sighing again, I shut the photo album and start talking about my day. Usually, when I visit my mother, I just talk. Doctors and nurses say that any interaction helps patients like her but it always feels like futile efforts to me.

"I saw Liz Fallon at the hospital today," I tell my mother.

I'm stunned when my mother laughs, "Liz. I love her. How is she? Is she still a scrub nurse? She was excellent."

I sigh again. My mother remembers her scrub nurse but not me. Seeing the heartbreak in my eyes, Derek moves forward toward my mother. He tells her that we loved seeing her but that it's getting late and we really have to get going. I don't put up a fight as he takes my arm and leads me out the door. We're leaving the nursing home quickly and I barely whisper a goodbye to my mother before we're gone.

"I'm sorry," Derek whispers as we climb into the car.

I shake my head sadly, "It's fine. It's to be expected, right?" He places his hand on my upper thigh and gives it a quick squeeze before putting both hands on the wheel and starting the drive home, "Really, I'm fine," I say. I'm not sure if I'm trying to convince him or me, it's probably a combination of both.

We're both relieved to find that our roommates are already asleep by the time we get home. Very few words are exchanged before Derek and I both climb into our bed, falling asleep instantly.

It feels as if only seconds have passed before my alarm starts beeping. Derek and I both groan as another day starts. As I climb out of bed, Derek buries his head under his pillow, desperate for a few more moments of sleep. I'm half asleep, I pull on a sweater and jeans before heading downstairs for breakfast. Derek calls after me, his voice groggy with sleep, "Eat a real breakfast today."

"What constitutes as a real breakfast," I ask, laughing, "The raw oats and cardboard you eat every morning?"

When I'm done eating, I head back upstairs to see if George and Izzie are ready to leave. I slip into my bedroom and place a fresh mug of coffee on Derek's nightstand. Despite the fact that he has an early morning surgery scheduled, he's fallen back asleep. I take it upon myself to make sure he makes it into work and I set his alarm clock to go off in fifteen minutes. Once I'm satisfied that he'll actually wake up when the time comes, I cross the hall to the bathroom. George is in the shower and Izzie is in her tanktop and underwear. It's an exact replica of yesterday morning, they're even having the same argument. Ignoring their fight, I duck down to the cabinet, looking for tampons. There aren't any. Izzie tells me George refused to buy them. I roll my eyes and go back across the hall, pretty sure Derek bought an extra box last week when I had asked him to.


	17. Where Does the Good Go 4

**Disclaimer: Copyright infringement is not intended.**

 **A/N: Finished my finals! Hopefully updates for this fic will become more regular over the summer, despite the fact that I'm going to have a job. As for how far along I am, I just finished writing Season 2 Episode 3 and I know where everything is heading so this fic will be going on for awhile, you all have that to look forward to. As always, if you enjoyed, please review.**

* * *

"Good morning, sleeping beauty," I tease as Derek walks up to me at a nurses' station.

He smiles at me, "Grilled cheese again?"

"Cold pizza."

He shakes his head, amused, "You need to start eating better breakfasts."

"Maybe I would," I jest, "If my husband would wake up and make them."

Derek flashes me a wink before getting down to business. He asks me how Jorge is and I'm proud to tell him the news. Not only is our patient awake, but after having the nail that damaged his optic nerve removed, he has regained his sight. Derek grins at me as we start talking to our patient and his wife. Today seems promising and hopefully it will be less exhausting than yesterday.

As Derek examines Jorge for any reactionary issues, he also questions him for memory loss and neurological deficits. Normal questions include aspects of daily routines and little things about the day before. Derek asks Jorge about breakfast that day of his injury and I smile a little when Derek flashes me a little smirk at Jorge's answer. We leave his room together and I mention to Derek that Jorge's spouse cooks for him every morning. Derek gives me a light shove as we laugh. We part ways as I head off to order Jorge's MRI and Derek starts checking on his other patients.

The next time we're together is an hour later, looking as the scans come up from Jorge's MRI. There isn't any residual bleeding but I had been right yesterday about my fear of Jorge having a tumor. Scans show a midline growth near the hypothalamus, it's in a difficult spot and surgery won't be able to remove the entire tumor. What's worse is, with surgery, there's a strong possibility that Jorge will lose his memories. His options are five to ten years with memory loss or three to five years with radiation treatment but his personality in tact.

Two hours later Derek is telling me that they want the surgery. Watching my mother slowly deteriorate, I'm shocked. Maybe my situation is less like Jorge and Sona's than I thought because if that was either Derek or myself in that bed, I doubt we would be getting the surgery.

"It's their decision," Derek tells me as he heads off to book the OR and plan the surgery.

I stay, starring through the glass of the ICU rooms at Jorge and Sona. She takes his hand in hers and clutches to him as if he's going to disappear. Looking at them, all I can think is that they're making the wrong decision. There's nothing worse than looking at someone you love and having them not recognize you. I try to move on with my day and get work done until the surgery, but for some reason I keep finding myself outside Jorge's room. It's as if a magnetic force is pulling me there and I can't escape. Everywhere I go, the one thing in my mind is that the surgery is a mistake. I watch as Sona presses a kiss to Jorge's hand before moving. Sona seems to be in a daze as she gets up from her seat. She looks up and down the ICU, not sure where she should turn.

"Sona," My voice is hoarse when I speak and the words come out without my permission, I hadn't planned on speaking.

My entire life I have been a rambler. Ever since I was little once I started speaking all the words would pour out. Either I don't say enough or too much is spilling from my mouth. As soon as I start speaking to Sona, I know it's the latter. Every thought in my head about the mistake she's making is confessed as I say, "You need to consider what you'll lose. What good is five years if he doesn't joke about your omelets and he can't remember seeing you in that red dress," I barely hear Sona's response as I continue, "You don't understand. He'll be there, but he won't be Jorge. He won't even recognize you. You have no idea what this will do to you. Isn't five good years better than ten bad ones?" Tears threaten to spill from my eyes and a voice in my head is screaming for me not to be saying this but there's nothing I can do. I'm a rambler and once the words start coming I just can't stop them.

Out of nowhere, Derek comes bounding around the corner asking, "Meredith, what the hell are you doing?"

"She needs to understand," I answer.

Derek apologizes to Sona on my behalf, explaining that I'm just an intern. Taking a few steps, Derek directs her toward the nurses' station and away from me. The two of them talk in hushed tones and I'm not sure what they're saying but I stand rooted in my place, watching their lips move. After what seems like an eternity, Sona is walking away from Derek. She stops for a moment as she passes me and I can see the hurt in her eyes. While I don't understand her decision to have the surgery, that type of pain I fully understand.

Derek tells Sona that the surgery will be at three that day, before leading me away. He pulls me into a nearby storage closet and doesn't even ask what is wrong. He's my husband, he knows me better than anybody on this planet. He knows that I've been seeing us in the Cruz family. He knows that I'm thinking about my mother and her blank stares and empty mind. With the door closed behind us, Derek takes the opportunity to give me a hug. Pressing up on my toes, I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face against his shoulder. He understands me and I don't know what I would do without that. Derek rubs slow, comforting circles against my back. Slowly I let out a deep breath and relax against him, all the tension leaving my body.

Once I step back, Derek puts his hands on my upper arms and I look up into his eyes. Understanding seems to seep from his face and I find myself, again, counting my blessings for having him. He smiles a little and says, "We have some time right now. We're going out."

"What?" I ask, confused.

"Neither of us has surgery until three," He explains, "You had cold pizza for breakfast, which we're going to talk about because that was supposed to be dinner and that's the second day in a row you've done that, so we're going out."

I repeat my question, "What?"

He smiles and replies, "Go to the locker room. Change out of your scrubs. We're going on a date. I'm buying you breakfast." Before I can question him again, he opens the door to the storage room and gives me a little shove out the door. He tells me that he'll see me at the cafe a few blocks away in ten minutes. Amused, I shake my head as I walk away from him.

When I reach the cafe, it's the cute one with the plastic dinosaurs on the fountain, I find Derek already sitting at a table outside, menu out in front of him. I slide into the seat across from him. Before we can start having breakfast, I have to know if he understands what I did today. If I don't make him understand there's the possibility that an argument could simmer for awhile before it turns into a massive fight. I know Derek, if we don't talk about it know he'll hold onto it and become angry. It's something I do as well. In the years we've known each other we've both learned that issues need to be addressed right away or else they'll grow exponentially and turn into full out wars between the two of us. I'm about to start explaining why I had to talk to Sona, why I had to confront her, when Derek reaches across the table and grabs my hand. He smiles at me.

"I know why you did it," He says, predicting exactly what I was going to talk about, "I understand. As your attending I'm not too pleased but as your husband, I fully understand. You don't need to apologize."

My mouth hangs open for a moment, the words that were already on my lips no useless. Then a small smile grows and I say the only thing that seems appropriate, the only thing that I want to say, "I love you."

* * *

 _I wish there were a rulebook for intimacy. Some kind of a guide that could tell you when you've crossed the line. It would be nice if you could see it coming. And I don't know how you fit it on a map. You take it where you can get it and keep it as long as you can. And as for rules, maybe there are none. Maybe the rules of intimacy are something you have to define for yourself._


	18. Edge of the Ocean 1

**A/N 1: Okay so when I first wrote this chapter I wrote an author's note which is A/N 2 but before that I need to say this. I wasn't originally planning on posting this chapter tonight but I am so physically REVOLTED by the Mer/Riggs kiss at the end of tonight's episode that I needed to purify my soul with some MerDer. Physically revolted. Like actually disgusted. Okay. That's that.**

 **A/N 2: Hello, lovely readers! The following chapters are my AU of 1x05,** _ **Shake Your Groove Thing**_ **. Parts of these chapters differentiate more from the episode plot than usual, but my plan is for that to become the usual. As always, I look forward to your future reviews and I really appreciate all of the ones I have gotten thus far.**

* * *

 _We can begin again  
Shed our skin, let the sun shine in  
At the edge of the ocean  
We can start over again  
_Edge of the Ocean - **Ivy**

* * *

 _Remember when you were a kid and your biggest worry was, like, if you'd get a bike for your birthday, or if you get to eat cookies for breakfast. Being an adult? Totally overrated. I mean, seriously, don't be fooled by all the hot shoes and the great sex and the no parents anywhere telling you to do. Adulthood is responsibility. Responsibility, it really does suck. Adults have to be places and do things and earn a living and pay the rent. And if you're training to be a surgeon, holding a human heart in your hands._ _ **Hello!**_ _Talk about responsibility. Kinda makes bikes and cookies look really really good, doesn't it? The scariest part about responsibility: when you screw up and let it slip right through your fingers._

* * *

My only thought as I sit across from one of Roseridge's caretakers is that I wish Derek was with me. This conversation, about me taking over my mother's estate and being placed in charge of everything, would be much easier if my husband was with me. Unfortunately, he was paged in early due to a trauma and couldn't join me. I miss being a kid, despite the neglect from my mother, everything was easier. I didn't have to worry about making every decision and I definitely didn't need to worry about going into work running on no sleep. If I needed a nap, it was scheduled. If I needed help, I had a nanny. Being an adult, I no longer have that luxury.

The stress of being an adult is getting to me. This morning I feel asleep in the shower. Derek found me curled in a ball on the floor, the water pounding down on me, when he slipped into the bathroom to apologize once more for having to go to the hospital. Anything that was said to me before I left the house was barely heard. Anything that the caretaker is saying now is simply going in one ear and out the other. I haven't slept in forty-eight hours, other than my ten-minute nap on the shower floor, and my processing capabilities are gone due to exhaustion. To top it off, I'm going straight from my meeting at the nursing home to my first cardiac surgery. It's all a lot and I'm not cognizant enough to handle it.

In the middle of the conversation with the caretaker I stand, "Look, I can't do this right now. Um, I'll schedule something. My husband will come in with me," Grabbing my bag I finish, "But now, just isn't a good time."

I'm leaving the nursing home before the caretaker can say another word.

* * *

Right away, Derek knows something is wrong. The look of confusion on his face as the elevator doors slide closed tell me everything I need to know. Granted, it probably is obvious that something is wrong with me right now. I mean, come on, I just held a heart for the first time, I should be thrilled. Instead, anxiety is coursing through my body. During the surgery, I dozed off. It was only for a second but it was enough for me to squeeze the heart. A light squeeze on the heart shouldn't be an issue but before scrubbing out I noticed that my fingernail popped my glove. If it popped my glove, what's to say I didn't nick the heart as well for the split second my eyes were closed. I'm terrified I just sentence my patient to death and I can't even tell my husband because he's an attending. I want to tell Derek but I can't, he'll have to report up and right now I don't even know if anything is actually wrong. A word of advice to all, being married to your boss's boss is not easy.

I need to tell someone about what I think I did, even if I can't tell Derek. Telling George isn't really a conscious decision. It's partly because I need to tell someone and he happens to be there and it's partly that I need to say it out loud, so that I understand what might have happened. It's just the two of us in the elevator and a few moments pass before the words inadvertently fall from my lips, "I think maybe I did something to the heart when I was holding it. I nodded off a little. Squeezed it."

Sweet, innocent, George tries to reason with me, "Oh, please. The heart's a tough muscle. It could take a squeeze or two."

I'm not stupid. I know just a light squeeze on the heart wouldn't do anything. I say to George, "My fingernail popped the glove. Cut straight through. George, what if I punctured Mrs. Patterson's heart?" As I speak I stare straight ahead of me, at the seam of the elevator doors, and use all of my strength to keep my breathing even. I feel like I messed up, like really messed up, like lose my job and never practice medicine again messed up. There's a very substantial part of me that feels like screaming but instead I stare at the doors and count my breathing.

George moves across the elevator to stand next to me and says, "If you had punctured it, you would have known when they reperfused. They got her heart beating. The woman's okay." Despite his reasoning, George seems to now be as worried as I am. We both know I might have really _really_ fucked up.

"So I shouldn't tell Burke? Or maybe Derek?" I ask.

"No, no, not Shepherd. And I mean, tell them what? You know, um, nothing happened. The woman's okay, right?" George struggles to get the words out, as if they're stuck in the back of his throat. I probably should tell them. I should probably at least tell Derek. But that would make it real and I think George and I want to avoid making it real.

I shrug a little, "She's okay."

"She's fine," George tells me.

I nod my head and reply, "She's fine." Except the words feel more like they're trying to convince me than to state a fact. I don't know if she's actually fine. Something could be terribly wrong and it could be all my fault.

After leaving George at the elevator, I go to check on Mrs. Patterson. It takes me a few minutes to actually approach her bedside, I find myself frozen, watching her husband's heartbroken face from a distance. If I caused an issue, if something terrible happens because of me, that expression his wearing will be entirely my fault. I think my guilt is eating me alive.

I ask Nurse Tyler, who is monitoring the cardiac patients today, to read me her stats. They're stable, but Mrs. Patterson could be doing better. There's a churning sensation in the pit of my stomach and a voice in my head telling me the reason her stats are low is me. Mr. Patterson asks me if his wife is okay and as I respond my voice cracks. I wonder if he can hear my guilt.

From Mrs. Patterson's bedside, I sprint to the intern locker room. My breathing is labored and my head feels light. I end up propping myself on my elbows over the sink and splashing water in my face, trying to wash away my guilt and fear. Looking up at myself in the mirror, it hurts to make eye contact with myself. I need to tell Derek, I decide.

Derek's yelling at Alex when I find him and my heart seems to stop. If I tell him what happened, he'll be yelling at me. I'm caught standing there, staring between the door to the research room where Derek is and the open hallway that could be my escape route, not sure what to do. My husband makes my decision for me when he spots me through the research room window and calls me to him.

"Hey Derek," I whisper as I join him, a little scared to speak. As I enter the room, he sticks his head out the door, glancing down the hallway both ways, before quickly closing us in the room. Once he's sure nobody can hear us, Derek turns to me and crosses his arms against his chest. He leans against the door and tilts his head slightly, every movement of his body language exudes concern.

"What's wrong?" He asks me, immediately, "Something was off this morning when I saw you after the CABG. Is it Ellis? Did something happen at the nursing home?"

Slowly, I shake my head, before explaining, "I'm telling you this as my husband and not my boss, do you understand?" I don't speak again until Derek nods, "I think I messed up during the surgery." Derek smiles a little and starts moving across the room towards me, assuring me that the surgery was probably fine. I put up a hand to stop him and confess, "I popped a glove. In surgery, I popped a glove while holding a heart. I think I might have… I think I could have… Derek, what if I nicked the heart?"

"Have you told Burke?" Derek asks, softly. I can't decipher his emotion from the tone of his voice and he's looking down so I can't catch a glimpse of his eyes for a clue into how he is feeling.

"Der," I start, but he cuts me off angrily.

"God, Meredith, what were you thinking? You should have said something in surgery, as soon as you noticed. If something goes wrong, if you did make a mistake, we have no way of knowing until it happens now! If you had just told Burke in surgery, then they could have checked for punctures but it's not like we can risk opening a patient up again just to check that there aren't cuts on her heart that might not be there!" He's seething, and I take a small step back away from him. As he yells at me, Derek paces a little and runs his hands through his hair. Suddenly, he stops walking and looks me straight in the eye. In dead seriousness he instructs, "You need to go to Burke, now, Dr. Grey."

As soon as he uses my title, I'm mad, too. I didn't go to him seeking Dr. Derek Shepherd, I went to him to talk to my husband. "Don't you Dr. Grey me, you self-righteous ass," I hiss, "I went to my husband, not the head of neurosurgery, not my attending, but my husband. You can't get mad at me like this! I need Derek's advice, not the orders of Dr. Shepherd," I soften my voice as I finish, "Derek, I came to you as my husband. I have to be able to do that. None of this is going to work, us both here, if I can't come to you as my husband."

Our gazes meet and Derek holds my stare for a few moments before sighing, his body relaxing and the anger easing away. Running his hands through his hair again, now due to regret and not rage, Derek shakes his head a little. We both take steadying breaths as we attempt to calm down and a mutual silence fills the room. Derek is the first one to speak and he starts with an apology, "I'm sorry," He mumbles, never one to readily admit mistakes, "I shouldn't have yelled. But…"

I cut him off, "No. No "but". Just be wrong. Just stand there in your wrongness and be wrong because you shouldn't have yelled, you're right, and you shouldn't pass this off like you always try to do."

Ignoring my protests, Derek continues, "But, you need to tell Burke. And I'm telling you this as your husband. Burke needs to know, Meredith."

"Fine," I say, "But I'm still mad at you," I point my finger at him.

He shrugs and smiles a little, "Well, let me take you out to dinner tonight to make up for it. Real food, waiters, an apologetic husband, big chunks of carbs in a basket."

"I can't," I reply.

"Izzie's party," We say in unison.

Derek brushes off my excuse, "Forget the party."

I roll my eyes and only half joke, "You can forget the party and spend the night here, if you want to make up for yelling."

Without waiting for his response, I leave the room. I don't spare a glance behind me but I can only assume that Derek has put his hands on his hips, annoyed with being exiled to his office. We'll see if he takes the exile seriously though, I doubt that he will.


	19. Edge of the Ocean 2

**A/N: It took a little longer for me to post this than I wanted but it's because I wanted to finish the chapter that I've been working on and it has been beating me up with writer's block, but without further ado, here's the next update.**

* * *

Burke orders me off of Mrs. Patterson's case after I go to him to explain my fear that I punctured her heart. If it wasn't for the fact that seconds after our conversation Burke and I both got a 911 page to Mrs. Patterson, I probably would have stayed off of the case. When we reach the CICU, we find Mrs. Patterson with a swollen sternum and gushing blood. Staring at her, the only thing I can think is that this is my fault. Something had to have happened during her procedure, my popped glove, for this to have happened.

We race Mrs. Patterson to the OR and the entire way, I'm apologizing. I'm looking at her as Burke and the other surgeons try to stop the bleeding and my brain keeps repeating, like a mantra, _my fault my fault my fault_. When we reach the scrub room Burke instructs me to scrub in and enter the sterile environment but not to put gloves on. He wants me in there so he can scold me and so I can see the damage I've done; I can only assume.

"What were you thinking about?" Burke admonishes me, "You had every opportunity to speak up before I closed her chest. Every opportunity. Suction."

"I'm sorry," I say.

"But," Burke says in a calmer tone, "We don't know if you caused this damage," My heart flutters a little at his words, "You should have told me, Grey, you should have told me when it happened. But you did the right thing coming to me, even if you did it late." Part of me feels like crying hearing his words, he might be mad at me, but he's not furious. I'm going to need to thank Derek and he's going to be insufferable about it seeing as he's the reason I went to Burke. As he speaks, Burke continues working to stop the bleed and repair any damage.

Leaning in close to the patient's open chest, Burke says, "There. Over here," He looks up for a second, makes eye contact with me, and motions for me to come over. I move slowly, my arms crossed, terrified to see damage I may have caused, "There, look at the wall rupture. That's a hell of a lot more than a fingernail. Her ventricular wall was weak."

"Oh my god," I gasp, relieved. I didn't do this.

"You're in the clear, Grey," Burke tells me, "Count your blessings. Now scrub out and update Mr. Patterson, understood?"

"Yes, sir," I reply as I hurry out to the scrub room. Never in my time as an intern have I been relieved to scrub out but as I methodically wash my hands, knowing that I didn't cause any damage to my patient, I have never been happier to be leaving an OR during an ongoing surgery.

* * *

After updating Mr. Patterson, I go looking for Derek. I want to tell him about what happened in the OR and thank him for pushing me to tell Burke. If I hadn't gone to Burke when I did but then gotten the page to Mrs. Patterson, who knows what I would have done. I probably would have confessed to a wrong doing that I didn't commit in front of the patient's family. Derek's advice saved my ass today. I can't tell him that exactly though, it would only make his ego grow and it's already so big it's like being married to two people. No, I'm going to need to tell him casually and nonchalantly, as if it's no big deal. I'm halfway across the bridge, in search of Derek, when my phone rings.

"Hello?" I answer, a little annoyed by the call getting in the way of me seeing my husband.

"Ms. Grey? This is Sheila from the nursing home, calling in regards to signing over your mother's care."

I listen as she explains what is needed for the meeting and I absent mindedly run my hands along the railing that I leaned against when I stopped. When Sheila is done explaining I find myself repeating everything she said, just to confirm, "And the notary can be there at 6:30 too? And the home's physician will be there attest to her mental competency. Okay, is there anything else I need to bring besides my license? My checkbook. 6:30, my husband and I will be there."

Just as I hang up, Derek slips in the minimal space between me and the railing. It's surprising that nobody other than our roommates and Cristina know about us being together, seeing as both of us have a tendency to ignore personal boundaries and be in each other's space.

"I heard," He says.

"6:30," I tell him, just to be sure, "For the notary with Ellis. C-can you drive?"

Derek smiles a little and leans forward, lowering his voice as he replies, "Of course I'll drive, we'll do this thing together" His tone changes to something lighter when he adds, "But that's not what I was talking about. I was talking about the heart thing. It appears that one of us gives great advice."

Sighing, I lean against the railing again, staring outside for a moment before I turn my head towards my husband, "I'd say thank you, but I really would like to go home with my husband tonight and not my husband and his massive ego."

He chuckles a little and settles himself against the railing, his back to the window giving him a great vantage point of the lower floor of the hospital. Glancing at me, Derek asks, "Do you want to talk about your mother?"

Instead of answering his question, I push myself off the railing and say, "We're adults. When did that happen?" I start walking away before turning around and adding, "And how do we make it stop?"

* * *

As we enter the nursing home, Derek suggests for the third time since leaving work, that we skip the party and spend the night at the Archfield Hotel. I brush off his suggestion because as nice as running away from our life for a night sounds, after signing overall responsibility of my mother to myself, I'm just going to want to curl up in my bed. Hopefully, the party will be winding down when Derek and I get home so we'll be able to just slip inside unnoticed. But before any of that can happen, we need to get through the paperwork with my mother.

Moments after we walk in the caretaker I spoke to this morning, who I have to assume is Sheila, walks up to us. "Sorry we're late," I say to her, "it was the traffic."

She rolls her eyes, used to me being inconsistent, and says matter of factly, "It doesn't matter, dear."

"Why," Derek asks, stepping up to my side, "Did the notary not show?"

"Oh, everybody's here.," The caretaker tells me, before looking over towards the couches, "It's just your mother isn't."

As soon as I look at my mother, I know she isn't there. Whenever she's forgotten, there's a look in her eyes that seems lost and right now it is as prominent as ever. Looking up at me, Ellis seems irritated. She asks what we want and I try to explain that she needs to sign the papers. I kneel down beside her and try to explain that she needs to sign the papers. She insists that she has a surgery and the only thing that grounds me is the comforting hand Derek places on my shoulder.

"Okay, Mom, we're all here," I say in a shaky voice, "We have a notary. I need you to focus and I need you to sign these papers," She squints and looks confused. I can practically see the gears in her head turning as her muddled mind tries to understand what is happening, "Mom, look at me."

Sheila complains, telling me I should have come earlier. I snap at her. I know I must seem like a terrible daughter, I've felt like one my entire life, but I don't need this caretaker scolding me for the fact that I had work to do and couldn't be next to my mother's side at all times.

When the caretaker tells me I need to come back tomorrow, I direct my anger towards her, "You know, why did she put this off for so long? And why did you let her? Doesn't it strike you as slightly irresponsible? I mean, what the hell is wrong with you people?" I storm out of the room. Leaving Derek behind to clean up my mess. I vaguely hear him apologize for me, blaming a long day, and say goodbye to my mother. He catches up to me in the parking lot and pulls me tight to his chest. I bury my face against him, and murmur something about going home. He agrees and leads me to the car.

* * *

We're silent the entire ride home and keep the radio off. The only sound is the constant thrum of the engine and the beating of the tires on the ground up until we're a few houses from our own. Throughout the ride I had been looking down, staring at my hands as if they're the most interesting thing on the planet. I know Derek wants to talk, but he doesn't push me and I'm really thankful for that. I look up as a pounding bass fills the car. For a second I think Derek turned the sound system on before I look up and see cars surrounding our house. People I don't recognize are streaming into our house and a taxi is pulling away from the curb, dropping off a group of people for the party.

Derek and I look at each other before saying in unison, "I'm going to kill Izzie."

Slowly, Derek pulls into the driveway, careful not to hit any of the drunk people wandering around the yard. I start climbing out of the car as he moves to unbuckle, but I stop him. He looks at me confused and I explain, "Der, the entire hospital is here. You can't go in there."

"I can't go into my own house?" He asks.

"Secret marriage, Derek. If you go in there everyone will know."

He argues why he should be allowed in, "I'm just a fellow co-worker invited to a party and decided to come, no big deal."

"Married attendings do not go to wild intern parties. It's like a rule or something."

He laughs a little, "Oh, is it?"

"Yes, it is," I say, climbing out of the car, "Now go drive around for a bit or something. I'll call you once I empty the house."

Rolling his eyes at me, Derek buckles himself back in and starts the car. I remind him that I love him and he chuckles a little and replies, "Yeah, yeah," as he pulls out of the driveway.

Everything seems to be in slow motion as I enter the house. I glance around and dozens of people I don't know are all over my space, dancing and drinking. My eyes scan around and I notice all of the pictures of Derek and I aren't in their places. My roommate might have thrown a wild party without my permission, but at least she made sure to hide incriminating evidence of my marriage. I spot George and as I start walking towards him, some guy I don't know bumps into me and hands me the Tiffany lamp Derek's aunt gave us for our engagement. I unplug it and make my way towards George, carrying the lamp with me.

"Where is Izzie," I angrily demand as soon as I'm next to George.

Shocked, George states rather than asks, "She didn't clear it with you."

"This was supposed to be a meet-the-boyfriend get together little thing," I yell, following George out of the kitchen and down the hall.

"Izzie has a lot of friends," George uses as an excuse.

I snap, "Izzie doesn't know this many people!"

George defends himself, "I told her to clear it with you."

"I can't handle this, George," I admit, "I just wanted to go to my room and go to sleep next to my husband but I can't because he can't be in here because the entire hospital is here!"

"You want me to kick everyone out?" George offers, "I'm going to kick everyone out."

I'm about to take George up on his offer and have every drunk person removed from my house when I spot Cristina. She's clearly drunk and having a good time as she stands on my coffee table, drinking and dancing. I stare at her for a moment, my jaw hanging open, before I decide to screw it. In exchange for the bottle of tequila George is holding, I hand him the Tiffany lamp. Laughing, I throw away any inhibitions and take a large gulp of the burning alcohol. Joining Cristina on the table, I start dancing and down another gulp of tequila. We both call George over and the next thing I know I'm drunk, happy, and dancing with my friends.

To be honest, I'm not sure how much time has passed but eventually George, Cristina, and I end up trying to play cards and sitting in the backroom, still drinking. It could be half an hour, it could be three hours, at this point I'm so drunk I've lost the concept of time. I think we're playing strip poker, especially since Cristina told George to take off his shirt, except I'm not sure if any of us are sober enough to fully understand the rules of poker. I'm not sure what's caused me to, but I'm ranting about surgery. Because surgery is stupid and I hate the fact that I love surgery. Whatever possessed me to become a surgeon must be some type of demon. Cristina rips my bottle of tequila from my hand, claiming that I'm too drunk, probably because I'm complaining about surgery. In an instant I'm taking my bottle back, there's no reason I can't get drunker than I already am, it's not like I'm on call or going anywhere, I'm already home anyway. I can drink as much as I want.

A confused looking tall blonde man I've never seen before wanders into the room and asks us, "Is, um, Izzie Stevens?"

Cristina says what we're all thinking, "Oh, you must be Hank."

Her boyfriend says something about not knowing there was going to be a party and I slur, "Which pisses both of us off."

Hank seems annoyed as he leaves the room. I call after him that it was nice to meet him. I don't think he's going to be getting ice like I asked him to. Pulling out my phone, I call Derek's number. He doesn't answer so I leave a voicemail.

I'm so drunk that I actually giggle as I say into the phone, "Hey there, Der," I snort when I realize, "Hey that rhymed. So," I draw out the word, my brain running slowly due to the copious amounts of alcohol I've consumed, "I assume you're still driving cause I never called you which I said I would but I didn't because I didn't clear out the party like I said I would but that's because I started drinking and dancing and this party thing I _a lot_ of fun. Anyways Izzie's tall blonde hockey boyfriend isn't getting ice but Derek we _need_ ice so could you bring ice when you come back we're running low and I mean what's a party without ice, right? There… there was something more I was going to say but I _can't remember what_ anyways you're such a great husband and really dreamy I mean I still get giggly when I see you and it's been so long and thank you for the ice and," The voicemail beeps indicating that the message has been recorded but I keep talking for another five minutes at least, not realizing that it's me talking to nothing.

With Cristina out of the room, George and I talk for a little while. He ends up falling asleep, just in his underwear, the only clothing spared from our game of strip poker. Leaving him alone in the backroom, I grab a nearby bottle of tequila and make my way through the crowds. With all the people dancing, the loud music, and the limited amount of space, I find the house stifling. I end up stumbling outside where the music is the perfect volume for my slowly building tequila headache. I already know that my hangover is going to be bad, yet I find myself swaying a little on my front porch still taking an occasional sip of tequila.

"You know in some states you can get arrested for that," I hear Derek say.

Glancing up from my bottle my eyes fall on him. He's leaning against some random car parked in front of our house and smirking. In a happy space of inebriation, I can't stop myself from smiling at the sight of him. I start walking towards him, he always makes me happy and when I'm drunk I've always felt this intense magnetic pull to him. He smiles at me and gets up from the car, walking across the front lawn to me. It's probably a good thing that he meets me halfway because the line I'm walking is anything but straight and actually navigating to him probably would have been a challenge.

"So you blew me off for a bottle of tequila," He jests as he nears me, "Tequila's no good for ya. It doesn't call. It doesn't write. It isn't nearly as much fun to wake up to."

Our eyes meet and even though I didn't think it was possible, my smile seems to grow. I reach out a hand and grab one of his lapels and pull him close to me. Slowly we both lean into each other. Despite the party filled with hospital staff, despite the secret marriage, despite being on full display to anyone we know, we kiss. It's a slow and passionate kiss, our noses pressing together and our tongues seemingly dance. When I pulled my lips away from his we're both still grinning.

"Take me for a ride, Derek," I whisper.

It takes a little maneuvering and it's a little difficult due to my lack of coordination from the tequila, but Derek and I end up in the front seat of his car. He slides the driver's seat all the way back and I climb onto his lap, kissing the entire time. We're giggling as we kiss and touch and strip, I think both of us feel a little like teenagers. I can't remember the last time we had sex in a car and it feels fun a daring, like the start of our relationship. It's ridiculous that after five years of marriage we're both still this wild about each other.

When we finish, we're both still giggling. I'm only wearing my bra and his shirt and he's just in his boxers. We look like something out of a ten comedy and neither of us can stop laughing. He adjusts his shirt on me, pulling it up to my shoulders before running his hands through my hair and pushing it out of my face.

"You know, it sounds like the party's winding down," He says, I ignore him and lean forward, going to kiss his neck. He stops me and pushes my hair back again, before cupping my face. "Listen to me," He demands as he laughs, "We should probably sneak inside, though."

"We've done enough sneaking for the night. It was good sneaking, but enough sneaking," I reply.

He adjusts his shirt on me again and agrees, "Yeah, I'd say we're pretty good sneakers. But y'know, if we want to make it back to our bed we need to sneak a little more."

I roll my eyes but I know he has a point, our house is still crawling with hospital staff and if we have any hope of getting him up to the sanctuary of our bedroom we're going to need to sneak a little more. Smiling, knowing he's right, I lean in to kiss him again, one last time before we go inside. He's cupping my face like I'm the most precious thing in the world and I can't help but laugh, like I have been all night, because nobody has ever made me feel as loved as Derek does, even half naked after a quickie in his car.

Our happy bubble is broken by a knock on the driver's side window. We both turn to see a pissed off Bailey standing outside the car. "You mind moving this tail wagon? You're blocking me in."

"Apparently not good enough," Derek says as Bailey walks away. Ashamed, I brush my hair behind my ears. Out of everyone in the hospital, Bailey is the last person I would have picked to find out about my marriage this way. She's going to make my life living hell. Suddenly, I feel incredibly sober.

I sigh as I roll off of Derek and into the passenger seat, "Maybe you were right about going to the hotel."

He looks at me, a little amused, "Oh, now you admit I'm right?"


	20. Edge of the Ocean 3

**A/N: Sorry for how short this chapter is, but I wanted to get something up.**

* * *

Derek and I never do make it to our room. Due to the exhaustion on both our parts and my inebriation, we fall asleep in our clothing on the couch, surrounded by the garbage of the party. Early in the morning, George swings into the living room, waking us up and offering to get coffee. Neither Derek nor I move but when George comes back with two mugs, I lift up one had to take it. All three of us our silent due to our combination of exhaustion and hangovers, we just lay on the ground and couch surrounded by the chaos caused by Izzie's party.

Speaking of the devil, Izzie enters the house and gasps, "Holy mother of destruction."

"You missed doctor-palooza," I deadpan.

Taking in the disgruntled appearances of all three of us, Izzie says, "Apparently, you didn't."

"I should probably never speak to you again," I reply.

Derek adds, not opening his eyes, "Maybe we should kick her out."

I murmur a response, but in all honesty I have no idea what I said. If somebody asked me what a sloth feels like, I think that would be the state that I am currently in.

After a quick shower and a lot more coffee, Derek and I drive back to the nursing home. He holds my hand as we enter and he sits by my side as my mother and I both sign the papers. My mother doesn't say anything as she hands the papers over to me, she knows what she's doing and it must be killing her to admit defeat. I guess that's why she took so long to do this; she didn't want to lose total control of herself. We drive into the hospital in silence, both of us too tired to talk. When we go our separate ways, he gives me a quick kiss on the cheek and I know, despite entering the hospital to work for a resident who probably hates me know, it won't be all bad. At least I have Derek.

* * *

 _Responsibility. It really does suck. Unfortunately, once you get past the age of braces and training bras, responsibility doesn't go away. It can't be avoided. Either someone makes us face it, or we suffer the consequences. And still, adulthood has its perks. I mean the shoes, the sex, the no parents anywhere telling you what to do. That's pretty damn good._


	21. Wish I

**A/N 1: For the first time in this fic I'm covering multiple episodes in one series of chapters (because of that I do not have Meredith's voice over included in the chapter).**

 **A/N 2: Sorry for the long delay for this chapter. I'm trying really hard to push through with writer's block for the chapter I'm currently on and I didn't want to post anything until I got through it but it's been so long, I wanted to give y'all something. I can't guarantee the next chapter will be up anytime soon, but I'm still trying. If you enjoy, please take some time to review, it definitely helps my writer's block knowing you guys are enjoying my story.**

* * *

 _But if you find that you don't like it  
_ _That the people there aren't inviting  
_ _Or that city life is too frightening  
_ _Won't you come home  
_ Wish I - **Jem**

* * *

My head is at the foot of the bed and my feet are propped up against the headboard as I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling. Derek mirrors my position, his head on the pillows and his feet by mine, also awake and staring straight up. We listen to the rain as it patters against the window pane, both worrying about what work is going to offer now that Bailey knows. The day before hadn't been too hard, because I was meeting with Burke to discuss the heart patient, I spent minimal time with my resident. Today though, she holds my life in her hands and I can only assume she is going to make it painful.

"We need to tell her," I say.

Derek sighs, "If we tell her, the whole hospital will know."

"Are you sure about that?" I ask, "Bailey isn't really a gossip, it's not like it would spread from her."

"I just feel like it's going to be the straw that breaks the camel's back and I know you aren't ready for people to know."

I close my eyes and try to figure out what I actually want before replying, "You're right, I'm not ready. But at the same time we can't have Bailey thinking you're cheating on your wife and that I'm your side piece. We need to tell her. I don't want to, but we need to."

Derek adjusts in the bed, flipping his body so that he's on his stomach, his head next to mine. He reaches out a hand and brushes my bangs from my face, "Are you sure?" He asks. I nod, before climbing off of bed to get coffee. I open my door to find George struggling with two mugs, just steps away from me. "Are these for me?" I ask him. His eyes seem to light up as he stretches one out of to me. I grab both mugs and move back into my room, closing the door behind me. I vaguely hear Izzie say something about marriage, but I'm too busy talking with Derek about how to tell Bailey to take the time to dwell on her comment to George.

Wanting to keep low until we tell Bailey, Derek and I drive in separate cars to work. Because we left at the same time, we reach the hospital only seconds apart and pull into spaces right next to each other. As soon as Derek is out of his car I look him dead in the eye and say one word, "Crap."

"Crap?" He asks me, a small smirk on his face, "That's no way to say good morning to your boss."

"Crap," I repeat before saying, "We didn't decide who would tell Bailey." I start walking towards the doors of the hospital at a fast pace, already running late and not in the mood to be on Bailey's bad side. Or I guess her even worse side cause after she caught me with Derek, I already am on her bad side.

"This is getting complicated," Derek sighs as he walks by my side, his steps quick to match my hurried pace.

"Complicated for me," I reply, "I'm the intern married to the attending. Bailey didn't speak to me yesterday," Realization dawns over me and I stop in my tracks, "Crap," I turn to look at Derek, "I need to be the one to tell her, don't I?"

He shrugs, "It might be for the best."

"Then we can't work together today," I decide.

"But Mer," He starts.

He would have continued talking but out of the corner of my eye I shoot a glare towards him while joking, "I'm really regretting marrying you." We've reached the elevators, and after pressing the up button, Derek steps up close to me, smirking.

"Nah, you're not."

I have to fight the urge to kiss his stupid smirk off his face and instead I say what seems to be my catch phrase for the day, "Crap." Before Derek can say anything else I spin on my heels and quickly march towards the stairs, anxious to get to the locker room so I can start the day. The sooner the day starts, the sooner it will end, that's what I'm telling myself anyways. When I finally reach the locker room I'm disappointed to find it empty, part of me hoped that the others hadn't started rounds yet and Bailey wouldn't notice I was late. I change into my scrubs at record speed and was just tying my shoes when Cristina bursts through the doors akin to a whirlwind.

"You're late," I tell her.

Cristina retorts, "So are you," Before taking quick strides to her own locker.

"I know, and I can't afford to piss off Bailey any more. Do you think she told anyone?"

Cristina's ripping off her clothes as she clarifies, "About you and McDreamy?" I shoot Cristina a look as my answer, of course it's about Derek. "No," Cristina assures me, "He's her boss too, she wouldn't tell. Yet anyways."

Alarmed, I shoot up to my feet, "What do you mean yet?"

"She won't tell anyone until she knows the full story and even then she probably won't, I mean he's the Chief of Neuro, no general surgery resident wants to piss him off," Cristina says, "Besides, it's not like you're doing anything wrong. He's your husband, Meredith," She's pulling her coat out of her locker and leaving the room when she adds, "And Meredith, shut up."

Following her out of the locker room I ask, "Did you seriously just tell me to shut up?"

"Oh, please. You're married to a hot doctor who likes to make you open up, and say "Ahh." It's the American dream, stop whining about it."

I'm about to say more when we catch up with the other interns and Bailey. Our resident calls Cristina out for being late but doesn't even acknowledge me. Trailing behind the rest of the interns, I hiss under my breath, "Crap." I need to tell Bailey, and I need to tell her soon.

* * *

We're all on the same case today, all five of Bailey's interns. Yes, there are other cases that we aren't sharing, but there is one patient that we all are charged with. Only two of us will be able to scrub in on the surgery, but a tumor as large as hers is so rare that Bailey wanted all of us to at least work with the patient a little. Rounds are moving quickly today, Bailey taking us patient to patient at light speed. Every time we leave a room I try to get her attention and to talk to her, but she either says something to somebody else or completely ignores my existence.

For some reason, it feels like we have more patients to round on than usual. We don't, and logically I know that, but it feels like we've been to a thousand different patients as we move room to room. When Derek tells his patient that I'm the one who is going to prep him, I decide I'm going to kill my husband. I've heard widowhood can be nice.

Instead of staying to prep our patient for surgery, I tell Mr. Levangie that I'll be with him shortly and I follow Bailey out of the room. I end up in the back of the crowded elevator, my annoying husband on one side and my angry boss on the other. If I had known actually getting Bailey alone to tell her about my marriage would have been so difficult I probably would have just blurted it out halfway through rounds to get it over with. On the third floor, everybody except the three of us empties the elevator. I let out a small sigh. I finally have an opportunity to tell her. When Bailey notices the elevator is emptying, she makes a move for the door. Derek blocks her with his body, intentionally leaning in front of her to click the elevator door closed.

Derek's smirking a little and I can tell from the look in his eye that he's about to do something to goad Bailey. I blurt out, "Dr. Bailey don't hate me," In my desperate attempt to stop Derek from saying something to dig us deeper into the hole we're already in.

"Excuse me?" She asks, her glare bouncing between Derek and myself.

"We're married, Dr. Bailey," I confess, "Der- Dr. Shepherd and I are married so what you saw I mean as embarrassing as it is it really isn't any reason to, I don't know, say ignore me during rounds and push me out of surgeries," At those words she gives me a warning look and I cover my ass by adding, "Not that that's something I would _ever_ think you would do, Dr. Bailey."

Bailey's eyes dart between the two of us as I inch a little closer to Derek, hoping that our body language will vouch for my honesty, "Married?" She asks, and we both nod. Rolling her eyes, Bailey warns, "I'm not going to advertise your extracurricular activities, sanctified by marriage or otherwise. However, the next time I see you," She points at Derek, "favoring Meredith Grey," She points at me, "in any way, I'll make sure she doesn't see the inside of on OR for a month. Just for the sake of balance."

As she finishes speaking the doors to the elevator open. She's halfway out of the car when she stops, leaning against the doors to stop them from closing and says to Derek, "You think you're charming in that talented, neurotic, overly moussed hair sort of way, good for you. But if you think I'm going to stand back and watch while you favor your wife-"

Derek cuts her off, "I do not favor Meredith," He glances down at me, pride shining in her eyes, "She's good."

Bailey opens her mouth as if she's going to say something else but something in her eyes changes and she opts not to speak, instead walking away as she shakes her head.

As the elevator doors slide shut, Derek shoots me a smug look and jests, "See, that wasn't too bad."

I roll my eyes at him. Once I told Bailey about our marriage, the day seems to go much smoother. Working with Derek, I don't feel Bailey's eyes on me anymore and I no longer feel her judgment. Okay, that's a lie, she's my resident of course I feel her judgment, I just don't feel it in regards to my personal life. After all the buildup the actual act of telling seemed like nothing. Glancing at Derek as he works on Mr. Levangie I feel as if the weeks of us hiding in the hospital had been for nothing. I was just being paranoid. It was good of him to let me be paranoid. But I'm relieved to be able to finally stop and come clean.

* * *

 _one week later_

* * *

Miranda Bailey, being my boss but working under Derek, was the main roadblock preventing us from being a married couple within the walls of Seattle Grace. Now that Bailey knows though, Derek and I agreed that we were done hiding. Done hiding means every day for the past week we have driven to work together, we have eaten lunch together the days neither of us were in surgery, we talk to each other if we can when passing in the hallway, and at the end of the day we drive home together. The past week has been domestic, comfortable, and happy. Both of us seem to have a weight lifted off our shoulders now that we're no longer hiding. Being able to be with my husband, everyday seems better than the day before. Everything is better, that is except for the gossip.

From the moment Derek and I first started holding hands as we walked into the hospital, every whisper from a staff member has been about the two of us. Nurses have been giving me death glares, furious that I have McDreamy and determined to win him away from me. Our professional lives have been fine since our marriage reveal but relationships with our coworkers are truly suffering. Rumors have been flying everywhere since we stopped hiding. Derek and I have gotten into the habit of discussing the juiciest rumors we've heard every time we pass each other.

"Hey step-dad, how's it going?" I greet Derek as I playful wrap an arm around his shoulders.

"Step-dad, huh?" He asked with a laugh, "So in this scenario, which one of us did the seducing." He spins me so that my back is pressed against him and his voice grows husky at the end of his sentence. A soft blush comes to my cheek at the public display of affection but I've been letting him get away with it the past few days after having to restrict moments like this for so long.

I shrug, giggling as I tell Derek about the gossipers in the intern locker room and how they just couldn't agree on how I ended up married to my former step-father. Derek's about to tell me the most recent chatter about us that he's heard when his pager beeps. He glances down and sighs, apologizing and promising to finish our conversation later as he heads down to the pit for a consult. Smiling to myself I lean against the counter of the nurses' station and watch him go. I'm about to finish going through my charts when I glance up and see two of the catty interns staring at me. I snap at them, telling them to get a life, before going back to my charts feeling even better than before.

Later in the day, I manage to ignore the gossip and ignore the stares as I watch Derek work. His patient is a young girl and he's in the middle of removing half of her brain. It's an incredible surgery and a rare one. While most of my mind is focused on how incredible both the procedure and my husband are, a small part of me can't help but think of the future. One day Derek and I will have a daughter or a son that age and heaven forbid they ever have to go through that.

After Derek's done with his surgery I find him to congratulate him. I had finished work about an hour before hand but decided to wait for him.

"That was incredible," I tell him, as soon as I'm in front of him.

He smiles, never one for modesty he replies, "Yeah, it kind of was."

I jokingly nudge him with my elbow and jest, "I was talking about George in there, he did great assisting."

"Sure you were," Derek murmurs as he leans into kiss me. After indulging in some PDA, I pull away from our kiss, but remain in his arms, smiling.

"How much longer do you have?" I ask, "I've been done for a while, just waiting for you."

I expect a normal answer from Derek, an hour maybe a little longer and then he'd be ready to go. Instead, my question seems to have knocked him off balance, as if it's unusual for me to want to go home with my husband. He stutters an excuse, saying something about monitoring the little girl and wanting to stay the night. As he speaks he scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tic that he often shows. He places a quick kiss on my cheek, promising to get me coffee in the morning, before hurrying down the hall. I stay at the nurses' station, watching him leave, confused by his odd reaction. He seems lustered, as if he was hiding something, and his claim to stay all night for his patient doesn't feel like the truth. Derek and I don't keep secrets from each other and I'm scared because as I walk out of the hospital on my own, it really feels like he is.


End file.
